


The Getting of Magic

by lilacsigil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 64,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsigil/pseuds/lilacsigil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's September 1947 and Hogwarts is finally getting back to normal after the disruptions of the war against Grindelwald and the Muggle World War. Transfiguration teacher Albus Dumbledore has been searching for students who have missed out on starting at Hogwarts, such as Charles Xavier and his sister Raven who have been hiding in the US, and refugee Erik Lehnsherr. Grindelwald's supporters are still strong, though, and it's going to be a turbulent first year for Charles, Raven, Erik and their friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Art by sunryder: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1786558
> 
> Content warnings: mentions of the Holocaust, Nazis, physical and emotional child abuse and period-appropriate language.
> 
> Thanks to st_aurafina for the epic beta!

The wizard in the green and orange tartan suit strode boldly across the lawn. Charles and Raven watched from an upstairs window, waiting eagerly for him to be turned into a salt pillar, but instead, when the traps sprung, blue daisies appeared on the grass. The wizard wasn't scared at all, in fact, he was chuckling to himself. He seemed slightly taken aback when the pillars of the balustrades unwound themselves into giant stone snakes, and Raven snickered, but then the wizard waved his wand and the snakes turned around and slithered back to where they came from. 

"He'll never make it past the front door, don't worry," Charles told Raven. There was no way they were going to be separated now, not after the last two years fighting it. 

Unfortunately for Charles, the wizard didn't go to the front door; he levitated up to their window. Raven squeaked in terror and hid under the bed, but Charles drew his wand and prepared to fight. He was thirteen now, and that was considered an adult in many cultures. 

"Good morning, Mr Xavier, Miss Darkholme!" The wizard seemed very chirpy for someone who was about to destroy their lives. "My name is Albus Dumbledore and now that Miss Darkholme has turned eleven, I've come to invite you both to Hogwarts. We start our students a year earlier than the Salem Witches' Institute."

"What?" Charles tried to read the man's surface thoughts, but all he could pick up was the taste of lemon sherbet. Charles's mouth watered slightly: he hadn't had that since they were last in England. "You mean, you're from the British school?"

Mr Dumbledore avoided the window's attempt to bite him and climbed over the sill. "Yes, my dear boy. I understand from the headmistress of the Salem Witches' Institute that you chose to be, what's the term, "home-schooled" rather than leave your sister?"

"Yeah!" Raven leapt out from under the bed, her skin a ferocious bright blue and her little white teeth bared.

"A metamorphmagus! How delightful!"

"See, I told you!" Charles was quickly distracted from the peril by his intellectual victory.

Raven stuck her tongue out. "You said they only show up in pureblood families, and that doesn't make any sense. Why would my parents be scared of me and give me to Muggles if they knew what I was?"

Mr Dumbledore sat down on the bed. "It's true that metamorphmagi are most common in so-called Pureblood families, but it's also true that the idea of blood purity is a fairly new one, in Wizarding terms. Perhaps only a thousand years or so. There's no reason to think you don't have Wizarding ancestors who were a metamorphmagi themselves."

"I like your beard," Raven interrupted, copying it. Even Charles had to admit it was a pretty spectacular beard, streaked with auburn curls, pale sandy bristles and great grey streaks. 

Mr Dumbledore laughed and stroked the beard Raven had grown in imitation of his. "Excellent, my dear girl! I can see you're going to do very well in my classes. I teach Transfiguration."

"We haven't accepted yet!" Charles was indignant. It was true that the only reason he had forged the home-schooling papers was so that Raven wasn't left alone with Kurt and Cain, and Kurt at least was dead now. If he and Raven could go to the British school together, that would solve most of their problems. Still, Charles was wary. 

"Indeed, indeed. What if I go downstairs and make us all some tea? The two of you can discuss what you would prefer to do."

Charles sighed. "Okay. Let me deactivate the interior defences, or the statues might eat you."

"You have a lovely home, Mr Xavier. You must be very proud."

Charles ducked into the hallway and said the code-word to the portrait of the ancestor who had built the house in the early 1700s, then went back to check Mr Dumbledore hadn't made off with Raven in the meantime. 

They were sitting on the bed comparing beards. Raven made hers bright purple, then Mr Dumbledore countered by waving his wand and putting beribboned plaits in his, decorated with tiny twinkling beads; Raven upped the ante with a magnificent forked and twirled creation that covered most of her torso.

"The defences are deactivated, as long as you don't try to leave the house or go to the basement," Charles announced, and had to stifle a giggle when Dumbledore turned around with his beard transformed into a pair of battling blue hedgehogs sculpted entirely out of hair. 

"Wow!" Raven shrieked, then, "Thank you for showing me some beard tricks, Mr Dumbledore."

"You're very welcome, my dear. I shall get on with the tea."

Carefully checking that Mr Dumbledore hadn't left anything behind to spy on them, Charles plopped down next to Raven. 

"What do you think? The Salem Witches Institute won't take you until you're twelve, and I don't know if I can get away with the homeschooling story now that Mother and Kurt are both dead."

"Maybe it will be nice to go where people don't know us? I mean, they all suck up to you so much here."

"Only because they want to marry me and get all my money." Charles made a face. "I'm not marrying anyone."

"Mr Dumbledore loved my morphing. He didn't tell me to stop it like Mother and Kurt did."

"Mother wanted you to look pretty for her friends. And Kurt only cared if you didn't stay out of his way."

Raven morphed into her frequently-used blonde-haired, pink-cheeked form. "I do look pretty this way."

"But you look amazing when you're blue. We can ask Mr Dumbledore what other metamorphmagi do at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts is a cool name. I hope they have hogs there. With warts."

"Raven! Don't be revolting. So we're decided, then?"

Raven kicked Charles in the shin. "Yeah, but…" she lowered her voice. "What about Cain? Do you think we should tell Mr Dumbledore about him?"

"No! It was an accident and he deserved it anyway. He was trying to throw you off the balcony!"

"Yeah…but I would feel bad for him if he had to be here all alone. I read comics to him, sometimes. When I don't hate him so much."

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe Mr Dumbledore can change him back? Once we're gone? I know he was only copying what Kurt did to him, but he's not allowed to hurt you! No-one is."

Raven hugged Charles hard enough to make his breath huff out, and pressed her hard head on him. "Thank you! You're the best brother! Cain is a meanie, but we can't leave him for the birds to poop on."

They joined hands and ran downstairs to find Mr Dumbledore. To their horror, he was sitting at the kitchen table pouring a cup of tea for Cain. Cain appeared somewhat confused and covered in dust, but he definitely wasn't made out of stone anymore. 

"What did you do?" Charles shouted, but Mr Dumbledore didn't seem in the least perturbed. 

"Ah, Charles, I was explaining to young Mr Marko the theory of accidental magic in underage wizards and witches. Would you like to hear about it?"

"No," he muttered mulishly, even though he did want to know.

"The reason that we start school about the ages of 10 to 12, or formal apprenticeships in the case of some families, is that this is the age where magic has built up to a sufficient extent that it may accidentally discharge in times of emotional distress."

"Is that how Charles turned Cain into a statue?" Raven inquired.

"What?" Cain blinked. "Last thing I remember I was, uh, talking to Raven on the balcony and now it's summer."

"Don't tell him, Raven!"

Mr Dumbledore sipped at his tea. "An excellent brew, yes. Your mother had superb taste in tea. Yes, Mr Marko, you have spent three months as a statue. This was entirely out of Mr Xavier's control, however, so you must not hold a grudge."

Both Charles and Raven looked askance at Mr Dumbledore at that: Cain was a champion grudge-holder. 

"How can Charlie do something like that? Did he learn it out of a spellbook?"

Mr Dumbledore smiled. "While Charles is a fine example of an auto-didact, he certainly doesn't have the power or skill for that kind of transformation yet. Just as you don't have the ability to consciously make yourself stronger and more durable, Mr Marko."

"Dad was wrong? I'm not a squib?" Cain looked down at his hands, one still wrapped in a bandage from the potion laboratory fire, and Charles almost felt sorry for him. 

Looking directly at Charles, Mr Dumbledore spoke inside Charles's head. "I have made the same offer to Mr Marko as I have made to you and to Miss Darkholme."

"That's not fair!" Charles found it easy to communicate with him, and it was much more precise than he'd ever managed before. "He's a bully and he hurt Raven!"

"And you, I believe. Mr Xavier, you are an intelligent boy but you have been terribly isolated in this house, and your mind is not open to alternate solutions to your problems."

"What do you mean?"

"Mr Marko is a bully, yes, but that's because that's all he's experienced. He truly believes that if he doesn't hurt someone first, they will hurt him. If we leave him in the same environment, he will never learn any other way to behave. A thirteen-year-old bully is harmful enough, but an adult bully can do a great deal more damage. Suppose one day he gets married? Has children of his own?"

Charles frowned. "You think that going to Hogwarts will let him see other ways to live?"

"Indeed I do. As would the Salem Witches Institute, though I hesitate to keep the two of you together then send him off alone. It will seem like punishment to him."

"But he isn't even nice to us!"

"Of course not, he can only see bullies and the bullied. He's jealous and frightened by the way he can physically hurt you and yet you don't give in to him."

"Oh." Charles considered that for a moment. "So if he goes somewhere else, you think he'll think where I go is better? And then he won't learn anything."

"You are a very astute young man, Mr Xavier."

"Okay then. But if he hurts Raven I'll turn him into a statue again!"

"If he hurts Raven, he will be punished according to the rules of the school. You won't be the only person responsible for his conduct anymore."

That was a tremendous relief, even though Charles had never thought about it that way before. "Okay, then. He can come too."

"Wonderful!" Mr Dumbledore said out loud, startling everyone. "I have a few more calls to make on my American adventure before we return to England, but I'm sure you'd rather come with me that stay in this big empty house. Boys, I'll show you a most delightful suitcase packing spell. Miss Darkholme, I see you don't have a wand yet, but I would be happy to assist you personally."

Cain glanced over at Charles, as if waiting for approval, and Charles realised with a shudder that that was exactly what Cain had been doing since his father passed away: waiting for someone to bully him into doing things. 

Instead of turning away, he put on a bright smile. "Come on, Cain! I want to learn this spell. I suppose we'll need uniforms and textbooks and things, but we can get those when we get to England. And a wand for Raven."

"Hooray!" Raven clapped her hands. She'd tried using Mother's wand since she'd passed away, but it was really not comfortable in her hand, and she'd never been able to make it do anything, so she had given up. Cain had his father's wand, so no matter how many times Charles promised they'd find Raven a better one, he knew she was feeling left out and worried about her place in the family. 

Mr Dumbledore had their suitcases packed in a great flurry of activity. Charles and Cain couldn't really perform the spell, if Charles was being quite honest, but Cain managed to get his suitcase to flop open and Charles managed to get a pair of pyjamas to fold itself up, and using magic in such a deliberate way felt wonderful. Mr Dumbledore did most of the packing himself, really, while Raven danced about in excitement. Charles' case ended up twice the size of Cain's or Raven's simply because of the number of books that the spell apparently thought he would need. 

"I could leave some in the library," he said dubiously, but Mr Dumbledore shook his head.

"The spell says that you feel you need them, and who are we to argue with that? _Diminuendo_!" At his command the cases shrunk to the size of a cigarette pack, and the three children could easily pick them up. 

"Okay, that was cool," Cain said. He hadn't argued with Mr Dumbledore telling him that he was coming to Hogwarts. He was unusually quiet, really. Charles put it down to shock and having been a statue for three months. 

Raven peered at Cain's bandaged hand. "Does that still hurt? Charles got a burn on his leg and he had to put cream on it."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Mr Dumbledore, can you help him?"

Mr Dumbledore took Cain's hand in his. "Hmm. I certainly can't do as much as a fully trained Mediwizard, but I can ease the pain somewhat." He traced his wand over the burn. "There. Now, come along! We have to rescue a little boy from prison!"

Raven, Cain and Charles all stared at each other for a long moment.

"Are we really going with him?" Cain asked.

"I like him!"

Charles nodded. "I'll set the house defences when we go so that no-one will get in and it will stay clean. I suppose we'll return for holidays and things, or maybe they'll make us stay with an adult."

"We don't have any relatives left, and Raven never had any."

"I didn't want them anyway!"

"Cain, don't tease Raven. I'm sure we can work something out. Maybe we can pay someone?"

They all suddenly found themselves floating through the air and down the staircase. Charles and Raven giggled, but Cain didn't seem pleased to be controlled by someone else. 

"This is a delightful fireplace, but I have no time to waste admiring it!" Dumbledore called out, and floated them all down to the hearth in front of the Floo-connected library fireplace. They'd run out of Floo powder weeks ago, but Dumbledore seemed to have some of his own in a little pouch encrusted with gold and silver embroidery of prancing unicorns. After a moment, Charles realised that they were in fact prancing, in motion around an endless circle. 

"Black Eagle residence, Colorado!" Dumbledore called out, throwing the powder in the fire. Grabbing Cain's hand – and encouraging the other two to copy him – they all leapt in together. 

They emerged from a burning pit of fire somewhere much colder than New York, dumped onto the warm stones that surrounded it. The formerly blue sky had clouds piling up in the distance, and the air felt thin. They were in the yard of a small wooden house. 

"Albus!" A tall Indian man shook hands with Mr Dumbledore. 

"Good to see you, Bill. These are my new students, Cain, Charles and Raven, from New York. Children, this is William Black Eagle, a dear friend of mine."

Bill nodded at them, then turned back to Mr Dumbledore. "I've found the location of the boy you were looking for. He's in a secure Muggle facility in Omaha, Nebraska."

"Ah, so it wasn't wizards after him?"

"No, no sign of that at all. If we hadn't lost so many people in the war we would have been right on to this one. Under normal circumstances we would have had him weeks ago, before this became a major problem."

"Yes, that's the case everywhere. The Muggle-borns have been falling through the cracks terribly."

Charles spoke up. "Do you mean there's children out there who don't even know they're wizards or witches? And they're performing accidental magic?"

"Indeed, Mr Xavier. And all the schools have lost staff recently, meaning there's very few of us to find them."

"But why are you here, then, not in England? There must be Muggle-borns in England, too." 

"Indeed there are, but Hogwarts has long had magical detections in place for all wizarding children living within the borders of Britain and Ireland, as Beauxbatons does in France and the Low Countries. Not all schools have been so fortunate and I have spent this summer travelling about to assist them in tracking down missing students."

"America's pretty big," Raven warned him.

"I've found a dozen students already, my dear, and have just one more to go before we head to Scotland."

"Did any of them decide to go to Hogwarts?" Cain asked.

"One, yes. The boy we're tracking down today, Mr Summers, might also be coming along, as I believe he will be more comfortable out of the country."

"There's food on the table inside," Mr Black Eagle told them. "We shouldn't be more than an hour."

"We can't go?" Charles asked, though he didn't know if he actually wanted to go and find a boy in a "secure facility".

"Go, eat, check your requirement list for Hogwarts!" Mr Dumbledore made a parchment appear in Cain's hand, then he and Mr Black Eagle vanished with the bright pop of Apparation.

Cain shrugged. "I don't know what kind of Indian food we're supposed to eat, but it's cold out here. Let's go in."

Indian food turned out to be a jug of lemonade and a plate of sandwiches, much to their surprise. Charles had been looking forward to eating pemmican or rattlesnake or something from a Wild West movie, but the sandwiches were excellent. 

They all read the long scroll of school requirements as they ate. 

"Oh, look, Transfiguration! That's Mr Dumbledore's class!" Raven was thrilled and Charles couldn't blame her. 

Their mother, despite being a witch herself, had been very unhappy that Charles had brought Raven into the family, even though there was nothing she could do about it. Charles had written Raven into the family Bible before telling anyone about her, and that particular family tree carried magical obligation. She never realised that Charles knew that perfectly well and that was why he'd done it. 

Cain was a lot less pleased by all the textbooks they had to buy. "I haven't been to school since we were living in Albuquerque. I've probably forgotten everything."

"Firstly, this will all be new to everyone, and secondly, they'll mostly be Raven's age if they're British. Mr Dumbledore – well, I suppose we should call him Professor Dumbledore – said they were automatically found at the right age if they were inside the range of the spell. You and I will have an age advantage, Cain."

Cain's face lit up at the idea of being older than everyone else and Charles rather wished he hadn't mentioned it. Still, there would be students in higher year levels and also teachers to keep him away from the younger kids. And Cain wasn't a squib, after all. Maybe he'd be less angry now. He'd never managed even the most basic of tests his father set, but Dumbledore had got him to magically open a suitcase in ten minutes flat. Still, Charles imagined that if Kurt was constantly shouting at him, he wouldn't have concentrated very well, either. It wasn't that Kurt hadn't hit Charles – or Raven, or their mother – but that his attacks on them were irregular and always followed by apologies and presents. His attacks on Cain were constant and ugly, and Cain never received an apology, not even when Kurt broke his wrist. Maybe Professor Dumbledore was correct and Cain needed to see more kinds of people. 

"It's still a few days until the start of term," Charles told the others, looking at the dates on the scroll. "Even counting travel time, we should have at least a day to shop in London. The Wizarding street there is called Diagon Alley."

"Have you been there?" Raven asked, excited.

"Yes, with Mother. She was showing Father about the Wizarding World. She always said he tried to analyse everything in Muggle scientific terms. I can't remember that much – I was only six – but there were wonderful ice creams and a huge bookshop. There's a good wand shop, too, Ollivander's. If we don't get to Singer's in New York, we should go there for your wand, Raven."

"Oh, I really want one! Are you going to get a new one, or stick with what you've got?"

"My dad got a new wand, one time," Cain stated, unexpectedly. "His old one got destroyed in the accident that killed your dad."

The boys were silent for a moment, but Raven piped up. "What was Singer's like? Were there a million wands there?"

"I dunno about a million, but lots, yeah. The witch who made them asked him lots of questions about his old wand and then gave him some to try."

"Maybe we should do that?" Charles mused. "Then we can see if the wands we inherited are the best ones for us or if we should get a new one?"

"I'm not giving up my dad's wand!" Cain bellowed, and Raven and Charles both flinched. Charles had no idea why Cain was so attached to Kurt Marko: he'd treated Cain far worse than he had Charles or Raven, and their hatred for him was tempered only by knowing that he'd died saving both Cain and Charles from his burning laboratory. 

Professor Dumbledore walked in, as casual as if he'd just popped outside for a walk. "Hello again! Those sandwiches look delicious. If you come outside quickly, you'll see something terribly exciting!" He hurried out and the three children dashed after him. 

Outside, Mr Black Eagle had quickly drawn a circle of symbols enclosing a short, solid blond boy about Raven's age, who was glowing faintly red and looked very distressed. 

"Is he cursed?" Raven whispered to Charles. 

"I don't know! I think they're going to help him."

Professor Dumbledore gazed up into the sky. "All clear!" 

Mr Black Eagle waved his hand – he had a small, leather-wrapped bundle in it rather than a wand – and the symbols on the ground floated into the air, spinning in the air above the boy, who was clenching his teeth. 

"Whenever you're ready, Alex," he said. 

Alex screwed his face up as if he was about to cry, but instead red glowing rings appeared in front of his chest. They swung around and around then flew off in all directions. As each burst of energy hit the ring of symbols, it instantly changed direction and zapped straight up into the air like a great burst of fireworks. When the rings were gone, Alex collapsed to his knees. 

Charles started to hurry over to him, but Professor Dumbledore held out a cautionary hand. 

"Give Mr Summers a chance to cool off. He's had a difficult afternoon and built up quite a charge."

"Is it underage magic, the same as Cain and me?" Charles asked.

"Yes indeed. Mr Summers has a great deal of potential if he can learn to focus." Dumbledore turned his wide grin on Charles. "And that's exactly what Hogwarts will help him to do."

Glancing over to see that Cain wasn't close by – he was over watching the ground near Alex steam – Charles leaned close to Dumbledore. "Are you sure going to Hogwarts is the right thing for Cain? He gets so angry…"

"Are you sure he should be close to you and your sister, I presume you mean? 

"Um, yes, that's what I mean."

"Hogwarts is for the benefit of all Wizarding children, not only those who someone might consider worthy. We've had students who make Mr Marko look like Shirley Temple."

Charles was most alarmed by this: he hadn't thought that Professor Dumbledore's policies might lead to living with people more dangerous than Cain. "Oh. Is it safe there?"

"Oh, no, absolutely not. For one thing, there's the giant squid. Then there's the ghosts, the evil paintings, the Splinching Gallery…Where's your sense of adventure, Mr Xavier?"

"Safely at home!"

"Where you control the environment. I see. Perhaps Mr Marko isn't the only one who will benefit from mingling with his peers." 

"Maybe I don't want to go!" Charles was not so quiet now.

"You've already accepted, Mr Xavier. You can't rescind your acceptance now." Dumbledore's eyes still twinkled, but his mouth was a thin line. "Hogwarts is an amazing place where you will learn a great deal about magic and about yourself. But it is not, and never will be, safe."

"What if I don't want adventure?"

"Then I advise you keep your head down, work hard, and keep a close eye on your sister."

Charles sighed. The Professor was right. Raven was going to find trouble no matter where she went. It might as well be somewhere where people didn't think she was either a monster, or just plain ugly. "Okay. What form will we be in? Raven will be in First Form, I suppose, but what about Cain and I?"

"As your home-schooling record was in fact false, you'll be in the same year as both Mr Marko and Miss Darkholme." Dumbledore chortled at the expression on Charles' face. "Oh, no need to worry, my dear boy. The wars in Europe have disrupted many students' schooling. You won't be the oldest in the year. And, of course, if you're doing well in your regular studies, we can assign extra studies to catch you up to your age group."

"Oh good!" Charles was most relieved. He had briefly entertained a vision of himself and Cain sitting awkwardly in a classroom full of Raven-sized younger children. He could happily replace that with a vision of himself doing Cain and Raven's homework while they paid him back with the kinds of Wizarding sweets he fondly remembered from his time in England.

Raven was helping Alex Summers up – the magical energy had knocked him over – and brushing off his clothes. He was dressed in a white shirt and grey pants so cheap and heavily starched that they sat stiffly on his frame as if he was dressed in cardboard clothes. 

"Hi! I'm Raven! That's my brother Charles, and this is my step-brother Cain, and they did accidental magic too! I haven't yet, but I'm a metamorphmagus so maybe I have enough magic already!"

"You're a what?" Alex said, rudely.

"It means I can change my shape!" 

Charles tried to warn her mind-to-mind as they could sometimes do, but Raven didn't seem to be receptive right now. She changed to her blue form, which was quite striking against her pink dress, and Alex shrieked and jumped backwards. Fortunately, Mr Black Eagle was there and put a big hand on Alex's shoulder. 

"You're going to be seeing a lot of things you don't immediately understand, Alex. Just as people didn't understand what you could do."

Alex had the good grace to blush and duck his head, though he still kept a wary eye on her. "Uh, I'm sorry? I was surprised."

Raven's lower lip stopped trembling and she grinned again. "Okay, great! I'm pretty surprising, I know."

"What were those energy beams?" Cain asked, curiously. Today Charles had heard him talk more than he usually did in a week. 

"They're the way magic spills out of Alex," Mr Black Eagle told him. "Albus said that you had a similar experience, but by making yourself stronger."

"That's cool," Alex said, "Wish I could do that."

"I didn't do it on purpose."

Professor Dumbledore stepped forward and handed a tiny suitcase to Alex. "You don't look very comfortable, Alex. Why don't you find something in there that fits you a little better? Get changed, then we can all go to Halifax."

"Halifax, Canada?" Charles' eyes were wide. He'd never been to Canada, and for some reason he had the idea that Floo powder only worked inside a country. If Muggles could organise international airline flights, surely Wizards could organise an international Floo system!

Alex appeared deeply suspicious, but took the miniature suitcase into the house with him. A few moments later, he returned dressed in sturdy denim pants, sneakers, and a blue-and-white checked shirt. He still held himself quite stiffly, though, as if he expected the other clothes to reappear at any moment. 

"Thank you for the sandwiches, Mr Black Eagle," Charles said politely. 

"Thank you!" Raven joined in as Professor Dumbledore threw a handful of Floo powder into the firepit. Alex stared at it in horror, but Charles took him by the arm. 

"Don't worry. It's not going to hurt you. This is one way that wizards travel."

"I'm not getting in any damn fire!" Alex cursed, despite seeing Dumbledore wade into it, completely unharmed.

"Look, I'll put my arm in and you'll see," Charles told him, and waved a hand into the flames that were currently a portal. Before he knew it, he'd leaned a little far and both he and Alex were thrown through with that confusing whooshing feeling that Floo travel always gave, and a moment later they were stumbling out of a large brick fireplace in a large hall furnished with plush red and blue armchairs and couches. A large wooden sign declared

ARRIVAL HALL  
DEPARTURE HALL  
WELCOME TO HALIFAX

"Welcome, travellers!" A witch in tartan robes – not as blinding as Dumbledore's, fortunately – waved them forward to join the rest of their group. Alex clung to Charles' arm in intense confusion, but as soon as he saw Cain and Raven standing next to Dumbledore, he released Charles and smoothed down the arm of his own shirt to cover up that he'd ever been clingy or afraid.

"Good, good," Dumbledore declared, herding them all together. "Now, I have a little business to conduct, and the next Trans-Atlantic Portkey won't be ready for some hours." He pressed a golden Doubloon into Cain's hand. "Buy yourselves some dinner and be here on the Departure Deck by ten. Is that enough North American money? I'm terrible at arithmetic."

"Uh, yes, that's plenty." Cain seemed terribly surprised to be given the responsibility, but Dumbledore traipsed off without a backwards glance, leaving the four children standing and staring after him. 

"You look a little lost, my dears," the tartan-clad witch told them, pulling a small scroll from a pouch at her belt. "Here's a map of the terminal – don't worry, there's plenty of places for you to wait. The long-distance departure deck is right over there, near where you came in." She pointed to a row of fireplaces and benches with brass spheres on them, though most people were getting in and out of the fireplaces. "Now, set your watches to local time!" She waved her wand, and Charles and Cain were both startled to see their watches spin forward an hour. It had still been light in Colorado, but it was seven in the evening here.

"Thank you," Charles replied, manners always in place even when he was utterly confused. 

Alex grabbed the map out of his hand and blinked in surprise at the glowing dot that indicated their position. "Okay. If we're here, we have to go that way to the travellers' amenities. There's pictures of food floating all over this bit, so I guess we should go there."

They walked close together to avoid being separated by the crowds. It wasn't constantly busy, but there were waves of people coming and going and each wave flooded through the grand doorways with some force. Other people seemed to be there to shop or dine out, wandering around without haste or direction. Outside the arrival hall, there was a long shopping arcade with a glass roof. There was faint tinkly music in the air and the colours of the glass roof rippled slowly in time to it, casting a warm light over the shoppers, diners and travellers in the arcade. 

"Do you think they'll let us in without a grown-up?" Raven worried. 

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have left us otherwise." Charles tried to sound confident, but he wasn't really sure about that at all. He seemed to be a very eccentric man indeed. 

Alex seemed to have recovered from his trip through the Floo network. "This is pretty cool! And if they ask us why we don't have an adult with us, we can say we're waiting for our teacher. It's true, isn't it?"

Charles had to admit this was a good plan, and one that he and Raven had used before, after Kurt had died and the Muggle servants had stopped showing up. The house in England where their mother had grown up had had a house elf who took care of everything, but there weren't any of those in America. Charles and his father had once visited a house that had a brownie imported from Scotland, but that wasn't the same thing at all. 

Cain led them into a restaurant that advertised "Best Prairie Pancakes" on a sign held by a mermaid. Charles was a little confused by the juxtaposition, but everyone else eagerly hurried in and he was pulled along with the group. 

A lantern appeared in front of them and bobbed politely, as if it was bowing in mid-air. It moved away from them slightly then waited until they followed. Raven worked out what it wanted first and scrambled after it; they ended up at a booth with four places set. They all shuffled in – Charles next to Cain, Raven beside Alex – and writing scrolled around the edges of their plates. 

PRAIRIE STYLE PANCAKES  
CHOOSE YOUR FLAVOUR

"What flavours are there?" Raven asked out loud.

WHATEVER YOU DESIRE

"Ooh! Please may I have, um, strawberry and grape and, um ice cream?" Raven defiantly ignored Charles' stern look from across the table. To be honest, he thought that sounded rather nice, but Raven should probably eat a good meal. The pancakes appeared in front of her immediately, a steaming stack of bright purple pancakes and fruit with ice cream rapidly melting on the top. It was vanilla chocolate chip, her favourite. 

"Me next!" Alex yelled. "Bubble gum, fried onions and hotdog!" 

"That's revolting," Charles said, but it appeared in front of Alex anyway. The pancakes were full of sausage chunks but there was a distinct whiff of bubble gum coming from them. On closer inspection, there were pink and yellow swirls through the pancakes beneath the piles of fried onions.

Cain spoke up. "Texas chili, beef and beans."

"That's more sensible!" Charles felt quite exasperated by the others. At least Cain was asking for a proper meal. "And I'll have bacon and eggs. And tomato, please."

"That's breakfast food!" Raven was delighted by Charles' choice, even though Charles had only been trying to think of something he tasty on pancakes that would also make a good dinner.

"Maybe it's breakfast time in England," Charles shrugged.

Raven and Alex both laughed with their mouths open, displaying their vividly coloured chewed-up pancakes. 

Charles stabbed his bacon. "I can't believe we have to be in the same year level as you."

"We do?" Cain looked horrified. 

"Yeah, Professor Dumbledore said there's lots of older kids starting this year because of the war, though. It's not just us."

"Huh, I still can't believe I have to share with you, freak." He pointed his fork at Raven.

"Shut up, Cain," Raven growled. "We're not at home now. You can't push me down the stairs."

Charles desperately wanted Raven to be quiet and not cause trouble, but it was Alex who acted. He flicked a fried onion at Cain with tremendous accuracy, hitting him right on the end of the nose. Distracted, Cain swatted it away, his face turning as red as his hair and his attention turning to Alex. 

"Yeah, don't try it. I've been to jail," Alex growled. "You hit me and I'll stab you."

"Really?" Charles and Cain chorused together, while Raven said, "That's cool!"

"Raven, that is not cool!" Charles snapped. 

Alex shrugged, nonchalant, and Charles had to wonder if this was why Dumbledore had to recruit him for Hogwarts instead of sending him to one of the American schools. If so, he was starting to think Hogwarts must be as peculiar as its name implied. 

"Hey, what's that kid doing?" Raven pointed to a tall boy with thick glasses who had wandered into the pancake restaurant. He was ignoring the helpful waiter lantern and paying close attention to something held in his palm. 

"I think he's coming over here," Charles frowned. Everyone craned their necks to see the boy – who was also carrying a small suitcase – and he noticed them watching. 

The boy shuffled awkwardly but didn't greet them. Instead he referred to whatever was in his hand before sighing audibly and trudging over to their table. 

"Hi, uh, I'm Hank McCoy. Professor Dumbledore gave me this to find you." He held out his hand, where a small tin compass pointed at their table. 

Alex gave him a suspicious glare. "How do we know that the compass points at us?"

Hank put down his suitcase, took a few steps backward and turned to the right, holding out the little compass so that Alex and the others could see it. Indeed, the needle swung back towards them, regardless of the direction Hank was facing. 

Hank put it in his pocket and returned to the table. "I've been wondering about it, too. Professor Dumbledore brought me to the arrivals hall and then an owl was bothering him, so he gave me the compass and told me to find you. It seemed he was in a hurry."

Alex and Raven wriggled over so that Hank could sit with the two of them. 

Charles leaned forward. "Are you going to school too? How old are you?"

"Yes, yes I am. I'm twelve." Charles was surprised at this – Hank wasn't as big as Cain, who was thirteen, but Cain was almost adult-sized, which meant Hank was pretty tall, too. 

"You can't go to the Salem Witches' Institute?" Raven asked, with some interest.

"I thought 'witch' referred to female wizards?"

"Yes, dummy, but it's been co-ed for a hundred years now. Charles was going to go there but he stayed home to look after me."

"Your brother took care of you?"

"Our parents are dead, actually," Raven told him, quite cheerfully, but Hank looked terribly embarrassed. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Mine are, too," Alex chimed in. "I don't care, though. So if your parents aren't dead, why are you coming to this crazy school in Scotland?"

"I received a letter from the Salem Witches Institute, but I didn't believe it. I mean, there's no evidence that magic exists, is there? A few more letters came after I threw out the first one, and eventually I replied to say I wasn't interested, and the letters stopped."

"So Professor Dumbledore came to get you?"

Hank turned a fascinating shade of deep red, almost purple, and his voice turned squeaky. "Yes. I suppose they want me to go to school somewhere."

Raven didn't seem to notice Hank's strangled reply, and chattered on. "Oh, because your parents aren't wizards? Mine probably weren't either, and they threw me out and I ran away from the orphanage and Charles found me and then I was adopted and now he's my brother."

Hank seemed relieved at her interruption. "I see. My parents didn't throw me out, but they didn't really understand my science experiments and I think they put magic in the same category. I'm sorry to hear you lost both your parents."

"Four parents." Cain's voice was flat. "Charles's dad died, then he adopted Raven, then my mom died in a car crash, then their mom married my dad. Then their mom died and my dad died too."

Hank paled at this. "Do all wizards tend to die violently?"

"Oh, no, don't worry!" Charles was quick to calm him. "My dad and Cain's dad worked together in potion development, and that's a very dangerous field. Cain's mom was a Muggle, so it was a regular car crash, and my mom was sick for a long time. Most wizards live a long time, though."

"I'm glad to hear that! Though potions development does sound rather interesting. Can anyone make a potion, or only wizards?"

"I don't know?" Charles had never thought about that before, and neither had anyone else, from the blank looks. 

They were distracted by a plate appearing in front of Hank, and the other plates vanishing in favour of dessert bowls. 

"Pick whatever you want!" Raven leaned across Alex so she wouldn't miss what he chose. 

When Hank was happily eating his cinnamon, honey and banana pancakes, everyone else dug into assorted flavours of ice cream: Charles had gone so far as to make up liquorice all-sorts flavour, which was really tasty. 

As their spoons scraped the bottoms of the bowls, Professor Dumbledore ambled up to their table. He had a small, frightened-looking Negro girl in tow. 

"Oh good, another girl!" Raven climbed right over Alex and Hank before Charles could stop her, and jumped down from the booth to greet the newcomer.

"Hello! I'm Raven Darkholme, what's your name?"

"Angel," she said, very quietly. On closer inspection, she had a black eye, a large but closed cut on her bottom lip and a hank of her fluffy hair missing, as if someone had hit her in the face a few times then grabbed her by the hair. Her checked green and white dress was torn across her shoulderblades and barely staying in place. She was sticking very close to Professor Dumbledore.

"This is Angel Salvadore, children. She will be accompanying us to Hogwarts. Miss Darkholme, would you be so kind as to take Miss Salvadore to the facilities and help her find something comfortable to wear?" He handed Raven a tiny suitcase, and she nodded, serious about her new responsibility. It took her a few tugs of the hand to dislodge Angel from Professor Dumbledore's side, but she managed it with a smile, and the two girls went off together. 

"Is she all right?" Charles asked, as soon as the girls were out of earshot.

Almost back to his usual twinkly self, Professor Dumbledore sat down at their booth, which had suddenly grown into a U-shape with extra seats while no-one was looking. "She will be, yes. Some manifestations of emotional stress in Wizard children can be rather extreme. Miss Salvadore has spent the evening flying over the Brooklyn Bridge, unable to descend."

"Oh man," Alex said, sympathetically, and Hank's mouth hung open with horror. Cain finished the last of his ice cream.

Dumbledore patted Miss Salvadore's hand. "I've covered things up and there won't be any trouble, but Miss Salvadore refused to go to the Atlanta Negro Wizarding Academy unless I came with her. I considered that bringing her with me was the simpler solution, as the weather above Atlanta tends to make me sneeze."

Hank asked first. "Above Atlanta?"

"Yes, the Academy is in the clouds, as they had far too many difficulties purchasing appropriate land on which to build it. Lovely place, apart from the sneezing." A plate appeared in front of Professor Dumbledore. "Hmm. While I ate earlier, Miss Salvadore should have time for a snack before we go to the Portkey. Let me see…pineapple and pecan, please. And Mr McCoy, you may want to order your dessert."

The pancakes appeared and Hank ordered blueberry and strawberry ice cream – a sensible choice of which Charles greatly approved – before Angel and Raven returned. Angel's hair was tied into two bunches, which mostly covered up the missing chunk, and she was wearing a clean dress similar to Raven's. She slid into her seat, Raven beside her, and hungrily stuffed in her pancakes as if she hadn't eaten in days, pausing only to survey the boys at the table with hostile eyes. 

A cup of tea appeared in front of Dumbledore. "Ah, excellent service here, I see. A good choice, Mr Marko."

"Uh, thank you?" 

The moment Angel had finished her pancakes, Dumbledore had them all up and moving towards the arrival hall, though Charles supposed he should call it the departure hall now, herding them through the crowds with tremendous ease. Quite a few people seemed to know who he was, as Charles heard whispers of "Albus Dumbledore! That's him!" the whole way to the departure hall, though people's expressions and the general mood seemed to be one of awe and excitement rather than fear or suspicion, of which Charles was glad. 

Alex was not as circumspect as Charles. "Why do so many people know you, Professor Dumbledore? Are you famous?"

They were inside the quieter departure hall before Dumbledore replied. "Yes, unfortunately so. During the war I defeated another wizard who was quite notorious, and many wizards and witches were quite relieved that he had been captured and could no longer hurt people."

"Was he very bad?" Angel asked, her voice quite clear now.

"That's a very difficult question, Miss Salvadore. He certainly did some very bad things, but I am unsure if one can call an entire person 'bad'. He was very kind to animals, for instance." He shook his head, slightly. "Now, come along. We don't want to miss the Portkey."

The six children followed him to the platform, where a dozen people were holding a brass rail attached to a large brass sphere. A wizard dressed in tartan robes similar to the witch they'd seen previously was checking names off a list as people walked onto the platform.

"Ah, Professor Albus Dumbledore and students."

"I've added one more since we last spoke, as you can see."

"Not a problem, sir. The Portkey has room for a few more." 

Charles noticed that the man's quill pen was not in his hand but hovering independently above the scroll that he held. It dashed down onto the paper and added Angel's name to the list. 

"Up you go, then!" The man waved them on, and they walked up the step to the platform.

"Have any of you travelled by Portkey before?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes on Cain and Charles. They shook their heads.

"Just Floo Powder and once a Side-Along Apparation," Charles explained. 

"Well, then. Each of you needs to place a hand on the rail and whatever you do, don't let go."

"What happens if we do?" Raven asked, far too eagerly for Charles' liking. He looked down at Angel, though, and realised Raven was asking on her behalf. The new girl was terrified. 

"Then you'll fly off somewhere over the Atlantic and I'll have to come to find you. You'll be fine, but it's a very cold and fishy experience that I do not recommend." Dumbledore's twinkle was back in full force, and Charles felt more relaxed to see that. Dumbledore shouldn't be troubled by anything. 

"Thirty seconds!" called the tartan-clad man with the quill.

"Grab on, children!" 

They each took firm hold of the brass rail. The adult passengers seemed bored with the whole process, which made Charles feel a little better: they resembled nothing more than New York commuters on their train ride out to the suburbs. Surely they didn't expect anything to go wrong. Raven's hand slipped into his, and he checked that her other hand was on the rail as the ten-second countdown began. 

"Three! Two! One!"

Charles felt the strangest sensation, as if he was being lifted off the ground by his shirt buttons, even though he hadn't moved at all. A pale green light filled his eyes, though he could still see everyone around him standing perfectly normally. The brass rail and sphere was travelling with them but not the platform itself, and a moment later they all dropped an inch or two onto another platform, this one made of marble. 

"Move along, move along, no shoving, there you go, welcome to London," a chubby wizard in navy blue robes intoned, as if he'd been saying these same words for years. He had a big gold badge that said "Asst. Stationmaster", so perhaps he had. 

Charles felt a little disoriented but otherwise fine, so he was very surprised when Cain shoved past him and made a run for a rubbish bin, where he vomited copiously. Alex and Angel had also looked a bit woozy, but Cain's massive puke set them both off; Alex made it to another bin but Angel threw up on the floor by Raven's feet. 

"Never mind, missy," the stationmaster said, "There we go, all cleaned up in a jiffy." He pointed his wand and with a brisk shout of " _Scourgify!_ " the mess was all gone. 

Angel's voice was still shaky, but she managed a thank you. 

"Yes, can make you feel a bit funny, taking a Portkey for the first time. Headed to Hogwarts? They've got that lovely train these days, not like the Portkeys we had to use when we were at school. Half the first year was stuck in the infirmary each term!"

"There's a train?" Hank asked with some interest. 

"Yes, lovely great steam train, the Hogwarts Express. Ah, but I'm sure Professor Dumbledore can tell you all about it. Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."


	2. Chapter 2

Erik was very pleased to have been allowed to travel on his own. He'd walked halfway across Europe without help and had fought against adults for food and survival: it had been very strange to then treated as a child and coddled. That didn't mean he hadn't preferred being in Ireland to being in the war-torn cities of Germany and France, of course. He'd always vaguely thought of Ireland as a place of famine, but Brendan and Diarmuid, the elderly couple that Dumbledore had left him with, had fed him constantly, milk and bread and potatoes and greens, until his bones no longer hurt. They'd taught him English, even though they spoke Irish to each other, their teaching augmented by spells from a huge and shabby book with beautifully illustrated pages. Erik loved that book, despite hardly understanding a word of it: the outside was drab, but every page was a cavalcade of colours and life and magic. 

He even had a wand now, made for him by an elderly monk who lived in a hollow tree. Erik had thought this rather eccentric, even for this new world of wizards, until he was invited inside. It turned out to be a small but comfortable home and workspace in there which couldn't possibly have fitted in the tree. Still, Erik had undertaken enough magical travel by then to avoid assuming that they were in the same place just because they had walked through a door. Another family, with several children, had just been leaving, a red-haired boy a few years younger than Erik proudly clutching his new wand and talking about how he was going to play Quidditch at Hogwarts. Brendan had given Erik a look, but Erik didn't speak to the boy and nobody forced him to. 

"A feather shaft of Haroeris's falcon," the old monk said, instead of a greeting. 

"This is Erik," Brendan had told the man. "Albus Dumbledore has sent us to buy him a wand."

"And blackthorn," he continued, as if Brendan hadn't spoken. The old man moved suddenly, and Erik jumped backwards, his hands curling into fists. The monk didn't touch him, merely running his fingers through the air about a foot away from Erik, as if he was finding Erik's shape in the air. "Yes, blackthorn. I have nothing ready. Return in a week."

Erik was disturbed to find that he was shivering. He wasn't cold, he wasn't scared. He hadn't given his body permission to do that. He followed Brendan outside where Diarmuid was waiting and the sunlight seemed to push away the strange feeling. 

"Come on, lad," Diarmuid said. "Better head home, get some dinner into you."

Erik was fairly sure they made up extra meals just for him – breakfast and morning tea, lunch and dinner, tea and supper seemed a bit much – but he was so pleased to have his body under his control that he wasn't to questioning it. Really, it was hard to question anything the two old men said: they were gentle and grandfatherly and never startled him as everyone else did. Erik was still looking forward to leaving, though. He knew that he was a burden on them, no matter how often they said otherwise, and that he reminded them of the two blue-eyed grandchildren they had lost in the war. He would much rather be with someone grand and impermeable like Dumbledore, someone he couldn't imagine being murdered. 

Brendan and Diarmuid had waved him off that morning, Brendan pretending not to cry as he gave Erik the Floo powder to take him to London. 

"Remember that you're a good boy with a good heart, Erik," Diarmuid had said. "People will think otherwise, but you must remember who you are."

Erik didn't understand why Diarmuid would say that, but he nodded anyway, his throat strangely dry, and stepped into the fire to be taken away. 

As promised, the Floo took him directly to King's Cross Station, in central London. He quickly moved away from the fireplace in the disused waiting room, as he had been instructed, his small suitcase of books and robes pulling heavily at his arm. A moment later, a middle-aged man and two brown-haired children came through after him, and Erik shuffled further away. 

"Tanya? Larry? You both have your trunks?"

"Yes, Dad!" the children chorused, holding up small bags tied to their wrists. The bags certainly didn't seem big enough to hold trunks, but Erik supposed there was some magic involved. 

The man turned to Erik. "You're off to Hogwarts, lad? I hope we didn't interrupt your family Flooing in!"

"I'm by myself," Erik replied. 

"Oh, Muggle-born, are you? Come on, then, we'll show you to Platform 9 ¾. I'm Bolivar Trask, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in the Animagus Registry, and these are my children Tanya and Larry. They're both starting this year."

Erik didn't like the sound of Magical Law Enforcement. "Oh, I'm waiting for a friend, first. Thank you."

"Of course, of course," Mr Trask agreed, and herded the children towards the door. 

"Bye! See you on the train!" Tanya called out, and Larry waved. 

Erik hadn't thought of that: they'd be stuck with each other for at least the length of a train ride, and possibly longer if they ended up in the same House. He'd better shore up his story by finding a plausible friend to board the train with him. He didn't want to get lost, either, and the instructions on finding the platform were rather vague: Brendan and Diarmuid had both attended Hogwarts long before there had been a Hogwarts Express. Picking up his case, Erik quietly followed the Trasks along a corridor and down a flight of stairs, but immediately lost them in a big, crowded concourse. He climbed up the stairs a little way – surely there would be other wizards around if all the children had to go to the one school – and watched for people behaving eccentrically. It had bothered him at first, that Brendan and Diarmuid dressed so oddly, wore lots of gaudy jewellery and openly lived together, but after a while he realised that none of the people who cared could hurt them. While he accepted Diarmuid's explanation that most wizards weren't troubled by homosexuality, apart from a few who believed wizards should have many children as possible, Erik had seen how quickly tolerance could turn into mass murder. If there weren't many wizards or witches who married their own sex, then they needed to be careful. One thing comforted him, and that was that at least the Muggles in their town couldn't possibly hurt them. That ruled out a huge percentage of the population and, when Erik was fully trained in the use of magic, they would not be able to hurt him, either. It didn't mean he wouldn't be wary of other wizards. 

The Trasks were nowhere to be seen, but Erik did see a woman with a tall silver turban threading her way through the crowd, so he followed her. As he got closer, he saw that she was pulling a boy along with her. Erik assessed his age as about eleven, which Dumbledore had said was the youngest age possible to start at Hogwarts, and he was pulling a large trunk behind him on a little cart. 

"But Mum! I don't want to go!"

"Telford, you'll have a perfectly nice time once you're there. I said the same thing at your age. And frankly, I'm sick of you Apparating into the kitchen whenever you're cranky."

Erik congratulated himself: that was definitely a wizard family on the way to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had explained to him that it was common for children around that age to start manifesting magic when distressed or surprised, which is why they needed to be educated to use their magic properly. When Erik had asked why he had produced so little magic, given the circumstances, Dumbledore had sighed, and suggested that starvation had left Erik's body had been too weak to do very much. This made sense to Erik – both as an explanation and as a strategy against Muggle-born wizard children like himself – especially as the Nazis had had wizards working alongside them. 

Telford and his mother had suddenly vanished, and Erik cursed his wandering mind. He was standing near the entrance to Platform 10, now, and could see Platform 9, but there was no Platform 9 ¾ in sight. This must be some kind of test, or perhaps a secret door that he couldn't yet see. Other children seemed to be here with their parents; on the other hand, Mr Trask seemed to assume that Muggle-born children would be here alone. Erik sidled across to the wall between Platforms 9 and 10 and stood just to the side of the metal barrier, keeping an eye out for more wizards. 

The next to appear were an Asian couple and a little girl, the father wheeling a trunk behind him. They were dressed perfectly normally and gave no outward indication of being wizards at all. Erik hadn't seen any Asian people since he was a little boy, but he didn't stare: he didn't want to attract attention. They walked up to the barrier and didn't stop, though the girl briefly stumbled and was steadied by her mother. Before Erik could move forward to see exactly what had happened, they had vanished. It seemed, from his viewing angle, that they had vanished into the wall. 

He moved aside a little, trying not to get in the way of the people streaming past to Platform 10, hoping to find a better view of the next group through. 

"Excuse me, but are you all right?" A small, brown-haired boy approached him, trailed by a large red-headed boy and a cheerful little girl with unusual bright purple hair. "Are you trying to find the platform?"

Erik quickly assessed him as a wizard. Apart from being with the girl with the strange hair, he had a wand tucked into his sleeve and wore an over-sized signet ring with an X on it, the kind of jewellery that would be entirely inappropriate on a regular young boy, but seemed popular with wizards. 

"Yes. My directions aren't very clear."

"Oh, well, mine aren't either, but we were staying in London last night and we happened to run into a few older students. They explained it all to us. I'm Charles Xavier, by the way." He thrust out his hand and Erik shook it, slightly bemused. 

"Erik Lehnsherr."

"Good to meet you! This is my sister Raven – Raven, do switch your hair back – and my step-brother Cain. They're American, I'm English but I've been living in America for a few years."

Cain nodded brusquely, but Erik noted that Cain was carefully sizing him up. That was all right: Erik understood that kind of mind. He let a few teeth show and stared Cain squarely in the eye, letting him know he wouldn't be cowed, and Cain dropped eye contact first. Good. He had the message. 

Charles and Raven were arguing. "No, Charles, my hair can be any colour I like! You heard that old lady, she thought I had a funny wig!"

"The school rules require us not to draw the attention of Muggles or perform any magic outside of school! I told you that!"

"It's not magic! It's just who I am!" Raven sulked, but her hair rippled into long blonde locks. 

"That's amazing!" Erik stared at her in genuine delight. "Is it only your hair you can change?"

Raven grinned widely. "No, I can change everything, except that stupid Charles doesn't like it."

Charles rolled his eyes and took her hand. "Come on, let's go to the platform then you can change however you want."

"Okay!" She reached out to Erik, though it took him a moment to realise what she was doing. "We met up with a prefect from Ravenclaw – that's one of the Houses – and he said the best way through is to shut your eyes and march on in."

"All right." Erik hefted his suitcase and grabbed her hand. Cain loomed behind him, but Erik could feel exactly where he was and had no urge to turn around. 

"Close your eyes!" Charles commanded, and Erik did, feeling the tug as Raven pulled him forward. After a few steps – which must surely put them inside the brick wall – he opened his eyes. They were at the end of a railway platform filled with people, including the woman in the silver turban and the Asian family he'd seen before. Glancing behind him, there wasn't a brick wall but a wrought iron archway. He frowned: the metal archway didn't feel right. Before he could examine it more closely, a guard in long navy robes waved at them. 

"Move along, children, move along. Don't loiter in the doorway!" 

"Drat," Charles said, "Cain didn't make it through. I'll go back for him. Erik, would you keep an eye on Raven for a moment? She's very good, but she does wander off sometimes."

"Of course," Erik answered, even more confused as to why someone would ask a stranger to stay with a little girl. 

Charles ducked through the archway, and Raven kept hold of Erik's hand.

"Cain's a bit dumb sometimes. He probably opened his eyes even though Filius said not to."

"Filius? That's the prefect you met?" 

Raven rolled her eyes. "Yes, Charles is all moony over him, it's terrible. Charles wants to be in Ravenclaw, now."

"I know there's four houses…" Erik had heard a few stories from Brendan and Diarmuid, but they had been at Hogwarts so long ago that he had no idea what had changed. 

"Oh, yes, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Our mom was in Slytherin, but I want to be in Gryffindor, maybe, or Hufflepuff."

"Does it actually make any difference?" 

Raven nodded her head seriously. Her skin was turning somewhat blue around her hairline. "They're all quite different, because they're meant to bring out different characteristics. Like, Ravenclaw is for people who like studying, and Gryffindor is for people who are brave, and Hufflepuffs like sticking together, and Slytherin is for smart people. You know, smart like clever around people, not smart like reading books."

"Oh. They all sound like they have their advantages. Do you know your face is turning blue?"

Raven giggled and her face rippled back to pink, her eyes gleaming yellow for a moment. "That's what happens when I forget what shape I'm holding. I can look like anyone, really, but people get worried if you copy them."

"Could you copy me?"

Raven shrugged. "Well, maybe a small version of you, otherwise I might rip my dress. This is a new dress, you know. Sometimes I create my own clothes but this is an actual dress in case Scotland is too cold for me."

"I wouldn't want you to ruin your clothes." Erik smiled encouragingly. He really wanted to know what she could do.

Raven's skin rippled and a moment later, she was a small facsimile of Erik in a pretty green dress. 

"That's amazing! You don't need a wand to do it?"

Raven grinned with Erik's face. "Ow, you have a big grin. I only bought my wand yesterday! It's got a unicorn hair in it, same as Charles'! But the shapeshifting is because I'm a metamorphmagi. I could always do this. We're very rare!"

"Young lady!" came a loud voice from across the platform. It was a tall, saturnine man with a forked beard, dressed in dramatic black robes with red trim. He looked exactly like the picture of an alchemist in a book Erik had read as a child, and Erik schooled his face not to show his amusement. 

"Me?" Raven asked in a small voice. She immediately switched to the pink-cheeked girl with golden hair. 

Erik stepped in front of her. "Is there any problem, sir?"

"No, not at all. I merely haven't seen metamorphmagi outside of my own family in forty years. What's your name, young lady?"

She stepped out beside Erik, sticking out her chin. "Raven Darkholme, sir." 

"Ah, one of Albus' Americans. That's a very interesting name you have, Raven. I am Professor Arcturus Black, and I would be very interested in talking to you later, at school. My great-aunt was a metamorphmagus – perhaps we can compare stories. Good day!" He hurried off towards the far end of the platform where several boys seemed to be wrestling a large owl with limited success, and Raven breathed a sigh of relief. 

"He was nice! Do you think his great-aunt is still alive?"

"He said 'was', so unless being a metamorphmagus is something that wears off, probably not."

"Oh."

"Just keep walking, we're nearly to the wall!" Charles' exasperated voice rang out behind them. Both Erik and Raven turned, to see Charles dragged a recalcitrant Cain along by his arms, his tie strapped around Cain's head as a blindfold. 

The moment they got through the arch, Charles let go. "There!"

Cain ripped the blindfold from his face and stared around like he'd never seen such a thing as a magical portal. Erik's estimation of Cain was dropping by the moment. 

"First call for boarding! Hogwarts Express!" came a man's amplified voice – it must be a spell, because Erik could see the platform guard saying the words and he certainly didn't have a megaphone – and everyone started to bustle towards the train. 

"If we want to sit together, we'd better hurry!" Charles said, and took hold of Raven again, pushing her towards the train. Cain and Erik followed, joining the long queue of students at the doors. Many of the older students were in school uniform already, making it easy to pick out the First Years – who, as Dumbledore had said, ranged considerably in age and size – who were mostly with their parents and not in uniform. Erik had his uniform in his case, but he had no school tie yet. Glancing around, he could see four different coloured ties on students: those must be for the four houses, as every student was wearing a badge to match, and a few of the oldest students had fancy versions of the badge. 

A very small student – no taller than four feet, though obviously one of the older students by his shaving rash – approached them. 

"Hello, Charles! I see you all made it safely."

Charles beamed, and Raven stuck her tongue out, turned away slightly so only Erik could see. 

"Yes, thank you for your excellent directions, Filius." He turned to Erik. "This is Filius Flitwick, Ravenclaw Prefect. He's the one I was telling you about. Filius, this is Erik Lehnsherr."

"Very pleased to meet you," Filius said politely, shaking Erik's hand. "Now, remember, when it gets to the Sorting, wish very hard for Ravenclaw!"

He hurried off to separate a First Year from a crying parent, with the help of a sallow-faced girl with a green and silver tie and a Prefect's badge. 

Charles was still beaming until Raven poked him in the ribs with one pointy finger. "Wake up, Charles, we're getting on the train now."

They hurried up the steps and Erik nearly dropped his suitcase in relief when the train was nothing like he'd been secretly imagining. Instead of bare boards and a dreadful stench, there were beautiful compartments with leather seats, highly polished brass fittings and a plush red carpet. He paused to let out a breath and someone pushed him from behind.. He spun around, elbows flying. 

"Stop pushing," he snapped. 

A skinny, olive-complexioned girl with glossy black hair glared at him. "Someone thinks he's important."

"I don't like being pushed."

"Hurry up, Selene!" someone called from behind her. 

"Then maybe you shouldn't stand around crying in corridors."

"I'm not crying!" Erik shouted, blinking hard and realising that, in fact, she was right. Even if there were no tears on his cheeks, his eyes were full and he hadn't even realised. He hastily glanced around but couldn't see Charles and his siblings in the crush so, he dragged his case into the nearest compartment. 

Two boys, both black, were the only two in the compartment. 

"Come in, these seats aren't taken!" smiled the skinny one, in a broad London accent. 

"Thanks," Erik muttered, and flopped down opposite them. 

"Well, finally someone wants to sit with us!" The solid boy sounded very grumpy, and had an extremely peculiar accent that Erik had never heard before. 

The skinny boy burst out laughing at Erik's expression. "I'm Armando Muñoz, and this is Lucas Bishop. He's come all the way from Australia!"

"Erik Lehnsherr, pleased to meet you." Erik shook their hands. "I've come from Ireland. Much closer than Australia."

Armando smiled at him. "I'm from about five miles away, so this will be the furthest I've ever been away."

"You weren't evacuated in the war?" Lucas asked. "I thought all the London kids got sent away."

Armando shook his head. "My mum didn't think it was safe for me. Not so many black lads in London, even less in the countryside. And there were plenty what didn't go. Besides, my mum cast a few spells on the flat so we didn't get blown up."

"She couldn't have cast them on other flats?" Erik asked. His good mood of earlier had evaporated completely. 

"She did, yeah, but each time took about a week. Protection spells are hard. Got our whole block done by the end of the war!" Armando seemed entirely immune to Erik's sarcasm. "She had to work on one for my dad's ship, too."

"Your dad's a sailor?" Lucas asked, with interest. "I had to take a ship from Perth to Cape Town."

"Yeah! He's from Puerto Rico, and he's in the merchant marine. My mum's from London, and she went to Hogwarts, so she wanted me to go there. They don't have so many schools in the Caribbean, they get apprenticed."

"That sounds good," Erik replied, thinking how peaceful it had been in Ireland with Brendan and Diarmuid.

"Yeah, sometimes. My Nan, she grew up in Jamaica, and she liked it a lot, and said maybe I should head over there. But my dad got apprenticed with some daft old bloke who didn't teach him anything, so he was dead against it."

"That's what they do in Australia, too, with my mum's people," Lucas agreed. "Not apprenticing, really, but all the boys go off with an elder and he teaches them. My dad's white, though, from England, and he wanted me to at to Hogwarts like him."

Lucas looked quite tense, despite his casual telling, and Erik was fairly sure there must be more to it than that, to send a boy to the other side of the world. 

The last of the students were boarding the train now, and the Trask siblings walked past the compartment. They both waved cheerfully to Erik, but walked on. They were followed by the small Asian girl who Erik had seen with her parents, who hurried into their compartment. 

"Can I sit here? Is that okay? I don't know the rules, I'm sorry, I just got here."

"Please, sit down!" Armando waved his arm expansively, king of the compartment. 

"Oh, thank you! I'm Suzanne Chan, and we just got here from Hong Kong last night, and there was a big mix-up with the Portkey and, oh, I thought I wasn't going to make it!"

The three boys introduced themselves as the train jerked into motion, and Suzanne made a polite little bow to them. 

"So, Erik from Ireland, Armando from London, Lucas from Australia. Thank you for letting me sit here! I'm an only child and my mum wouldn't let go, and it's been a long trip!"

"My dad's been to Hong Kong," Armando supplied, helpfully. 

"Your dad's been everywhere." Lucas grinned and Armando grinned back at him. 

Two hours later, Armando had taught them all to play Spiral Whist – Erik having vetoed Exploding Snap – and Armando was winning the lion's share of the humbugs that they were using as bets. Since he'd supplied the sweets in the first place, and several had been eaten along the way, Erik had to admit this seemed fair. 

Just as Suzanne played trumps on top of the spiral staircase of cards hovering over their makeshift table, there was a knock at the compartment door. Three older students were there, two boys and a girl; the girl wore a Prefect's badge. 

Suzanne slid the door open and the three students crowded in. One of the boys and the girl, who were both wearing blue and bronze ties, looked very alike. The other boy had a green and silver tie. 

"You're Erik Lehnsherr?" the boy with the blue tie asked. "We're the Jewish Students Association."

"The whole association is the three of you?" Erik replied, startled.

The boy in the green tie laughed. "No, no, just the heads of it. I'm Carmen Rosanoff, and these two are Samuel and Chava Prydeman." He had a mild German accent, although the other two didn't. It made Erik feel a little queasy, and he pushed the feeling down ruthlessly.

Chava, the Prefect, smiled. "There used to be quite a few of us at the school who came to Britain with the Kindertransport, but we were the youngest of that group and now we're in Seventh Year."

"There's Arnold," Carmen said, "He's in Sixth Year."

"Okay, apart from Arnold, we were the youngest. There's a few students in every year level, but just two of you starting this year, you and Gabrielle Haller."

"We'll talk to you more at school, but we wanted to introduce ourselves and let you know we're here in case you need anything. Do you keep Kosher?" Samuel asked. 

Erik shook his head, unsure of how to respond to this outpouring of kindness. 

"You're easily taken care of, then! There's going to be a Rabbi at Hogwarts this year – the Astronomy teacher – who's come over from Tripoli. I haven't met him yet."

Chava took her brother's arm. "Let's find him then. These kids have a game going and it looks like the stakes are high."

Armando laughed and offered her his bag of humbugs. She took one and hustled the other students out the door. 

"I wonder if there's an association for Chinese students?" Suzanne mused. 

"Maybe you should start one!" Armando thoughtfully ate a humbug. "Erik, it's your turn."

Erik blinked and checked his cards. He had a terrible hand, but Spiral Whist allowed more opportunities than the regular kind. With a quick check to see he wasn't shaking, he reached out and inserted a three of clubs into the spiral. 

They saw Chava a few hours later, walking down the corridors with another Prefect and reminding everyone to change into school uniform, but the boys didn't show up again, for which Erik was very glad. He had felt very exposed in front of them, and in front of the other First Years, having them go on and on about being a Jew: Armando, Lucas or Suzanne didn't seem troubled, but they were hardly the only people at the school. Nonetheless, he didn't feel too bad overall. A man with a sparkling gold leg had come by pushing a giant cart full of food and everyone bought delicious meaty sandwiches and pumpkin pasties and cocoa – Brendan had given Erik some money to buy something to eat, so he didn't have to pretend he wasn't hungry. Now, as the train pulled into Hogwarts, he could face the new place with the right clothes and a full belly. 

As the train pulled to a halt, an amplified voice rang through the train. "We are now arriving at Hogwarts. All students please leave luggage on the train: it will be transported to Hogwarts separately. First Year students please assemble at the north end of the platform."

"That's us!" Armando said unnecessarily, sounding nervous for the first time. 

"I hope we're all in the same house!" Suzanne added. 

Lucas shook his head. "We'll still be sharing classes, won't we? You shouldn't worry." 

"The girls' dormitories are probably separate anyway," she sighed. 

They all followed the stream of students out of the train, everyone blurring together in their dark robes and the evening gloom. It was considerably chillier than London had been, but that made sense, considering that they had been travelling due north all day. Erik wasn't quite sure where they were but he had no trouble telling north, and directed the others towards that end of the platform. 

A tall, haggard-faced man in a long grey coat was calling out to the students. "First Years this-a-way! First Years!" There was an enormous teenage boy – surely ten or eleven feet tall – standing next to him counting off students as they went by him. 

"Seven, eight, nine, ten, there you go!" the ruddy-faced boy boomed as he ushered Erik and the others past him to wait with a few other students at the end of the platform. The boy Erik had seen with the woman in the silver turban was there already, along with an Asian boy and girl. 

"Are they Chinese?" he whispered to Suzanne, but she shook her head and kept her distance. 

Charles and Raven were counted in and gave Erik a friendly wave, which he briefly returned – he was a little annoyed they hadn't waited for him on the train – and the girl who had pushed Erik was there, too. Cain tagged along behind Charles, of course. There seemed to be slightly more boys than girls, but Erik didn't find it hard to pick the other Jewish student, Gabrielle. She was small and dark-haired, and had the same constant awareness of her surroundings that Erik himself had. She'd spotted him, too, but she made no approach, simply choosing to wait quietly near the edge of the group. 

More and more students were counted into their group until the gigantic boy counted "Thirty! That's it, Mr Ogg!" He thumped the last student on the back – fortunately he was a tall, fat boy almost Cain's size who managed not to collapse under the enthusiastic blow – and stepped aside to allow Mr Ogg to speak to them. 

"Thank you, Hagrid. First Years, follow me for your first glimpse of Hogwarts." He walked off briskly down a dirt path, without checking to see if anyone went after him. Hagrid made a shooing motion at the students and they all hurried along. Erik stuck close to the middle of the group, but he could hear Charles talking to Hagrid. 

"Hello, Mr Hagrid, I'm Charles Xavier!"

The enormous boy laughed. "Don't call me Mister, just Hagrid! I'm the assistant groundskeeper. No need to be fancy. Now, Mr Pringle's the one you'd better be polite to."

"He's your boss?"

"Mr Ogg's my boss, there, nice fellow. Mr Pringle's the caretaker. Work with him too, sometimes. He gave me a caning or two when I was a student here and sometimes I reckon he'd like to do it again!"

"Oh, I see." Charles sounded rather crestfallen, as if he'd expected everyone to be his friend. "Well, I'll make sure to be polite to him, then."

"Ah, you seem like a nice young bloke, not the type to cause trouble. No illegal pets, nothing like that."

Erik would have asked him about the illegal pets, but Charles was defending his honour, instead. 

"Oh, no, I don't have any pets at all."

Before Hagrid could reply, they reached the lakeshore. Erik was looking at the cluster of small boats there when he heard cheers and gasps from other students and glanced up to see what was affecting them. Across the lake stood an enormous castle, all turrets and sparkling lights. If that was Hogwarts, it was considerably larger and more isolated than Erik had anticipated. Still, wizards had lots of ways to travel, so he should really have thought that they could put a castle anywhere they wanted. 

"Right, you've had a gawk, into the boats!" Mr Ogg shouted, obviously having done this many times before. "Four to a boat, please!"

Erik ended up with Suzanne, the fat boy Hagrid had backslapped, and a tall, skinny boy with heavy glasses. As soon as the four of them were in the boat, it began to sail smoothly across the lake. 

"I'm Suzanne, this is Erik, what are your names?"

Erik was rather glad that Suzanne was there to break the ice. 

"Fred Dukes," the fat boy muttered. "You ever seen a place like that before?"

"I've seen pictures of it – my mother went here." Suzanne nodded firmly. "Are you Muggle-born?"

"What?"

"Are your parents wizards?"

Fred understood. "Nope. My dad was in the Army but he's gone back to the bakery now. My mum used to sew parachutes, but I suppose they don't need those anymore."

"What's your name?" Suzanne asked the skinny boy, who hadn't said a word and seemed utterly terrified to be addressed. 

"Hank McCoy." He was an American – maybe one of "Albus' Americans" that Professor Black had mentioned. "My parents aren't wizards either."

A yell came from another boat, Mr Ogg's voice. "Don't stick your hand in the water, you silly girl, there's a giant squid in there!"

Erik stared dubiously at the lake, but before he'd had time to worry about how to fight off a squid, the boats all glided into a large cave and beached on a sandy shore. Dumbledore was standing there, a glowing light hovering above his head. Erik relaxed a little. It had been months since he'd last seen Dumbledore but he looked as strong and fearless as ever. 

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" he called out. "Come along!"

They followed him up a steep passageway to open air and soft grass in the shadow of the castle wall. Dumbledore waited for them all to catch up, then threw open an enormous oak door, leading them all into a small chamber. Erik could hear the murmur of many voices and the shuffling of feet and furniture from behind another door, and held himself very still, determined not to appear nervous. Most of the rest of the students looked worried enough to make up for it, though a few like Suzanne and Charles were excited. 

"Again, welcome!" Professor Dumbledore beamed. "Lovely to see such a delightful crop of new students. Now, in a few minutes the start-of-term banquet will start, but before that can begin, you'll all need to be Sorted in Houses. Your House will be like your family as long as you are at Hogwarts – you will all have classes together, share a dormitory, and, best of all, gain or lose points for your House. How is that best of all, you might ask? Your victories, no matter how minor, may gain points while your misdemeanours will lose them."

Erik thought that didn't sound like much of a system of punishment. Maybe it just meant that the stakes were low. He hoped so. 

"At the end of the year, the House with the most points will win the House Cup. Ravenclaw have won for the last two years, and Slytherin before that, so I want all of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs to do their very best this year. Especially the Gryffindors – that's my house!"

A few students laughed nervously. 

"I see you're not in the mood for my little jokes. No matter! I'll pop through to the Great Hall and see if they're ready for you."

He went through the door – Mr Ogg and Hagrid had already gone – and all the students shuffled about anxiously. 

"Does anyone know what being Sorted involved?" Charles asked, his voice clear and steady. 

"My cousin Tom says you have to fight a dragon," said a freckle-faced Irish boy dubiously – Erik recognised him from the wand tree in Ireland. 

The dark-haired girl who had bumped into Erik waved dismissively. "Don't be silly. They put a magic hat on your head and it reads your mind to see what would be best for you."

Everyone was considerably more nervous after that, and even Erik couldn't quite make himself stand still. 

Dumbledore opened the doors and a rush of sound burst through. "All ready! Alphabetical order by surname, order of the Headmaster! I prefer a more ad hoc method myself, but what can you do?" He waved his wand and all the students were suddenly airborne, floating gently into place in line. Erik had a great urge to be sick, but he was a champion at controlling that particular feeling. He was twelfth in line, between a small, sturdy girl and a skinny blond boy who kept hiccupping. Lucas was second, behind a tall, stately girl with her hair in a tight bun. 

Dumbledore led them through the doors to a deafening round of applause from an entire room full of students. Erik could have sworn that the train couldn't have held that many, but he must remember that regular spatial reasoning didn't really apply to wizards. The Great Hall was a tremendous room, largely filled by five long tables. Four of them ran parallel to each other down the room and each was full of students wearing ties and badges of the same colour: red and gold, blue and bronze, green and silver, yellow and black. The fifth table, for the teachers, was on a slightly raised platform. Erik spotted the Rabbi immediately: he was a small, unprepossessing man in his thirties with a scruffy beard and large glasses, sitting by a balding man who kept almost knocking over his wine with his trailing sleeves. 

Two prefects – Chava Prydeman and Filius Flitwick – placed a stool in front of the line of first years, and Dumbledore put a dirty old pointed hat on the top. It was much patched and terribly frayed around the edges. Erik had absolutely no idea what was going on or why everyone was staring at it. The room had gone quiet as if they expected something to happen. Then, of all things, a rip near the brim of the hat opened like a mouth and the hat began to sing. 

"You may not expect much of me,  
And think I'm just old hat,  
But I have four brains in my cap,  
And none of you match that!

Now all of you fought death and ruin  
To join us here today,  
So listen close, children of war,  
To what I have to say.

Four Houses wait for my commands  
I'll sort you into each,  
But only in true unity  
Can we dare hope for peace.

Brave Hufflepuff, she knew this well  
So some of you I'll choose  
For compassion and for comradeship  
That all of us must use. 

Shrewd Slytherin would plan ahead  
For days both bright and dim,  
His clever schemes need cunning minds,  
Some students follow him.

Then Ravenclaw: her students bright,  
For knowledge always yearning,  
Are those who read the signs of fate  
And from history take learning.

And last, the bold knight Gryffindor,   
War making his ranks thin,  
His students fight for honour, friends,  
And never once give in.

Through all these virtues we may thrive,  
But which brings out your best?  
Well, sit down here and put me on,  
And I will do the rest!"

 

The rest of the Hall burst into applause, but Erik was glad he wasn't the only First Year staring at the Sorting Hat with his mouth hanging open. He was very relieved that he wasn't first in line, and rather worried by the idea of a hat with four brains: if a hat could have a mind, what else could? He cast his eyes around the hall and noticed that there appeared to be no ceiling, just the clear night sky, bright and close. That made no sense: if there was no roof, the room wouldn't be so warm, and the candles would be flickering instead of burning steady. 

"It's enchanted to look like the sky," the girl in front of him hissed, in a Scottish accent. 

"Why would you do that?"

"They must find it pretty! I'd much rather have a nice solid roof, myself."

Erik laughed, trying to keep an edge of hysteria out of it. 

She turned slightly, still keeping an eye on the Sorting Hat. "There's a book called 'Hogwarts: A History' that tells you all kinds of useful things. It's not on the reading list but there's supposed to be an enormous library here. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be in Ravenclaw, so I hope there'll be lots of time to spend in the library!"

Erik nodded. He had no idea how you could guess which House you might be in, but books meaning Ravenclaw seemed to be considered a pretty clear equivalence. 

The first girl in the line was taken over to the stool by Dumbledore. 

"I shouldn't be first! I should be under R, not A!" 

"Please take a seat, Miss Al-Reraph, and it will all be finished soon."

Dumbledore plopped the hat on her head, hiding her face entirely, and Erik had the feeling that she and the hat were in close communion. A few moments later, the mouth-like tear opened again to declare, 

"SLYTHERIN!" 

The table with the students in green and silver ties erupted in cheers and Miss Al-Reraph hurried over there to be given a seat at their long table, people applauding and congratulating her. 

Erik barely had time to wonder if this behaviour was peculiar to Slytherin, when Lucas took his seat. 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" 

The yellow and black table was just as effusive, and even more so when the Irish boy Erik had met also joined that house. 

Suzanne Chan was next, sent to Gryffindor, then Raven to Hufflepuff. There was another Hufflepuff and Slytherin before the first Ravenclaw, a dark-haired girl with glasses and a ponytail. The Ravenclaws, despite their academic reputation, cheered as loudly as everyone else had. 

The other Jewish student, Gabrielle, was sent to Gryffindor, and the Scottish girl, as she had predicted, to Ravenclaw. Then it was Erik's turn. 

He felt a little shaky as Dumbledore directed him to sit, and the hat – while not as ridiculously oversized on him as some of the younger First Years – was still enough to cover his eyes. He tried to push the brim up, but then the Sorting Hat spoke, right in his mind. 

"Hello, Erik! Well, you're a tricky one, aren't you?"

"Why am I tricky? Erik snapped. "And get out of my head."

"Ah, but it's your head that's in me. You want power, don't you, but knowledge and family as well."

"Who wouldn't?"

"You might be surprised! Still, you desire that power to destroy evil and set things right, not for its own sake. A little arrogant, yes, but that's never been a setback in…GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hat's voice was deafening from inside it, and Erik staggered over to the red and gold table in a daze. People were cheering and slapping him on the back, but he was very glad when he was pushed to a seat beside Suzanne and Gabrielle. A few moments later the hiccupping boy who had been behind him in the queue joined them in Gryffindor, then Erik lost track a bit in all the noise, until Armando plopped down next to him with a delighted grin.

"Erik! I can't believe we got the same House!" he yelled over the noise of a fair-haired girl being Sorted into Hufflepuff. 

Erik felt sick again, and angry like he wanted to punch someone. It was crowded and hot, and he couldn't take this any longer, but he forced himself to sit still, breathing shallowly. He glanced over at the other students, and they were all clapping and cheering, except for Gabrielle whose expression was glazed and flat. Erik tugged at the sleeve of a chubby red-haired girl who had a Prefect's badge. 

"Excuse me, where are the toilets?"

Erik must have given away more than he thought, because the girl smiled kindly and tapped her wand on his hand. There was suddenly a little map drawn there, and he wanted to vomit all the more. Instead, he grabbed Gabrielle's arm and hurried out of the hall – the Gryffindor table was right at the end, luckily – out into the cool darkness of the corridors. 

"Where are we going?" Gabrielle whispered, which still sounded awfully loud after the Great Hall. 

"Nowhere. You look sick."

"So do you. I didn't like them Sorting people." She forced his hand open with her hard little fingers and saw the map. "Did that girl draw on you?"

Erik nodded. "I said I needed the toilet. Were you in a camp?"

"Yes. You too?"

"Yes. The Jewish Student Association told me you were the other Jewish First Year."

"And now we're both in the same house. Great." She started walking away from the Great Hall. 

"Where are you going?"

"To the lav, silly. Otherwise they'll think there's something wrong with me when I need to go again later."

Erik followed her immediately. Running out of the Great Hall was bad enough – better than hitting someone – and he certainly didn't want to start a reputation for being weird. Though, really, with oarless boats and floating cards and school houses chosen on your personality by a psychic talking hat, he wasn't sure what would be considered "weird". 

He was glad that he did because, a few minutes later when the male Gryffindor Prefect – who was chubby and red-haired like the female Prefect – came to check on them, he and Gabrielle had washed their hands and were on the way down, as if nothing here was wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

Charles applauded when Raven was sorted into Hufflepuff. They looked like a friendly lot, and Raven was desperate for friends. She'd been stuck at home most of her life due to her tendency to let her appearance slip when she was excited. The boy they'd helped at King's Cross, Erik, was sorted into Gryffindor, and a little further down the queue, Cain was sent to Hufflepuff along with Raven. This made Charles frown: he was close to the end of the line, and had no idea where he was going. He didn't want Raven left alone in a dormitory with Cain if he could help it. Not that Charles wanted to be in a dormitory with Cain either, but he'd turned Cain into a statue once and nobody had been too cross about it, so perhaps he could do it again. If he was in another house, maybe a word to the Hufflepuff Prefects would be a good idea. 

At least Charles wasn't dead last, as he usually was. An Asian boy and girl were behind him: they obviously knew each other, as they were speaking in their own language. Charles wished he knew what it was. He watched the Sorting continue: Hank McCoy to Ravenclaw, Angel Salvatore to Slytherin, Alex Summers to Gryffindor. Well, he'd know someone wherever he went, at least. The boy in front of him, Jack Winters, was Sorted into Slytherin almost the moment he put the hat on his head, and then it was Charles' turn. He resolved to concentrate on Hufflepuff. 

"Here you are, lad," Dumbledore said, leading him to the stool and plopping the hat unceremoniously on his head. 

"Hello, Charles!" the Sorting Hat said in his mind.

"Oh, hello! You do that mind-speech thing that I can do sometimes! Do you really have four brains?"

"Someone was listening to my song, I see. I have parts of four minds, which is not exactly the same thing, but I preferred 'brains' on a poetic level."

"I wasn't aware hats could write poetry."

"With a great deal of practice, the same as anyone else. Now, Charles, where do you think you belong."

"Hufflepuff, please!"

"Hmm. It would be a good fit for you – you are a very responsible boy who cares about other people."

"May I go, then?"

"No, no, I haven't decided yet. You have ambition, and bravery too, but I can see what makes you tick under all that social conscience: knowing how things work. RAVENCLAW!"

Charles staggered up as the hat was lifted from his head and headed for the Ravenclaw table, as they cheered his arrival. They sat him down at the bench between to Hank and a pretty brown-haired girl and settled down again fairly quickly: it had been a long wait and the Sorting wasn't quite done yet. 

The last two – Shiro and Mariko Yoshida – were sorted into Gryffindor and Hufflepuff respectively and Charles was looking around to see if any food had appeared when a translucent woman in a long dress floated into the middle of the table.

"Hello, new Ravenclaws," she said, her voice whistling in a very odd way. 

"First Years, this is our House Ghost, the Grey Lady," the female prefect said, proudly. 

Hank snorted. "But there's no such thing as ghosts!"

The Grey Lady floated over to him, her legs and torso sinking through the table so her face ended up on a level with his. "You may consider me any kind of creature you wish, but I assure you, Mr McCoy, that I once lived, was slain, and yet continue to exist in this form. 'Ghost' is but one term, but commonly used."

Hank nodded enthusiastically. "I'm glad we can actually converse and you're not just going to float around startling people. It would be very interesting to discuss this with you."

"You'll be here seven years – plenty of time!" Filius called out, as the rest of the table giggled and poked at each other. "Yes, Hank, someone always wants to analyse the Grey Lady! There's a book of observations up in our Common Room so that you can draw on the wisdom of Ravenclaws past."

Hank flushed bright red but looked rather pleased anyway. Charles grinned – he was disappointed not to be sharing a House with Raven, but a house with her name seemed like the next best thing. He glanced over at the next table and Raven spotted him, waving frantically. He returned the wave and she grinned, her hair shimmering to bright red. Students around her gasped in amazement and the red-haired boy she was sitting with patted her locks, then she was drawn into a tangle of friendly little Hufflepuffs and Charles turned back to his own table. In the moments he had looked away, an enormous feast had magically appeared in front of them. There were steaming hot dishes of all kinds, from plates piled high with roast vegetables to great meat pies with slices already cut, and thyme-scented roast chicken. The etiquette appeared to be to dig into anything in front of you and load up your plate with the big serving cutlery, so Charles followed the lead of the others, as much as he felt awkward and rude doing so. He supposed it was probably the most efficient way to feed so many people at once, and at least they weren't doing what he'd heard about at other schools, where the youngest pupils had to serve the elder before they got to eat anything themselves. 

Eventually, the savoury dishes cleared themselves away and were replaced with even more plates, of dessert this time. Charles had eaten so much that he felt his entire torso was stuffed with food. He somehow managed to get in a bit of chocolate ice cream anyway, and leaned away from the table a little to make room for it in his stomach. 

The clear sound of a bell came from the teachers' table, and everyone slowly began to hush. When they did, the dishes vanished from the table, and an elderly man with soft, flowing white hair and a short beard stood up from his seat at the centre of the row of teachers. 

"Ahem! Welcome back to Hogwarts! I hope you are all well-rested and your brains have become nice and empty, ready to be filled again."

Charles scowled at this – he certainly didn't have an empty head – and glanced around to see that his fellow Ravenclaws weren't too pleased by this turn of phrase, either. 

"For those newly arrived, I am Headmaster Armando Dippet. I trust that your days here will be both happy and productive." He stopped to cough, but took only a few moments to sip his wine before continuing. "We have two new teachers this year: Persephone Merrythought is taking over her mothers' position in Defence Against the Dark Arts – many of you will remember her from her visiting lectures last year."

Dumbledore was watching Dippet very closely as he said this, though Charles didn't know why. If Professor Merrythought was the new teacher, shouldn't Dumbledore be keeping an eye on her?

"Our second new teacher is Daniel Shomron, who joins us from Tripoli. He will be teaching Astronomy, plus advanced classes in Legilimency for sixth and seventh year students only. Now, our caretaker Mr Pringle has asked me to remind you all that there is to be no magic in the halls between classes, and Groundskeeper Ogg has asked me to reiterate that the Forbidden Forest is, in fact, forbidden to all students unless in the company of a teacher or Mr Ogg himself. There are dangerous creatures living there which could quite easily eat a student, and we want to keep this year incident free." He cleared his throat. "Now, sleep well, and wake bright and early tomorrow for your first day of classes."

He sat down, to mild applause, and people started to get up from the tables. 

"All First Years, please remain seated!" Filius called out, and the female prefect hurried around to their side of the table to make sure that none of them were wandering off.

"I'm Chava Prydeman," she said to the seven First Years – three boys and four girls, the only house with more girls than boys in First Year – "Filius and I are the people to speak to if you have any problems at all. Don't be shy – it's our job to help you."

Everyone else poured out the doors, leaving only prefects and little knots of First Yearsin the Great Hall. Filius floated up to the table so that he could speak to all of them at once. 

"Now, who do we have?" He pointed to each student in turn. "Moira Kinross, Tanya Trask, Larry Trask – Are you two related?"

"Yes, he's my little brother. Eleven months difference," Tanya replied. Larry, who wore an enormous bejewelled medallion around his neck, nodded in agreement. 

"My brother's in Ravenclaw too," Chava told them. "It's not always the case that siblings stay together, though.

Filius continued. "A protective amulet, Larry! Very nice. Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy, Tessa Fox and, last but not least, Amelia Voght. You'll all be taking classes, living and studying together for the next seven years, but don't think that precludes you from making friends in other houses. Variety is the spice of life, as Headmaster Dippet likes to tell us! Our Head of House is Professor Beery, who you'll meet in Herbology. He couldn't be here tonight because he has a rare cactus blooming, but he asked me to pass on his regards."

Chava took over. "The most important thing to remember getting around Hogwarts is that everyone gets lost. The building remodels itself for reasons that we don't understand, so if you find you've gone astray, ask a painting for directions."

"A painting?" Hank couldn't stop himself, again. 

"Wizard painting is a little bit different to regular painting, as you'll see."

Charles noticed that she didn't say "Muggle."

"All right then! Come along, Ravenclaws!" Filius held his wand up, with a cry of " _Lumos_!" and it began to glow as he floated down off the table and led them out of the Great Hall and towards an enormous staircase that Charles was sure he would have seen when they came in for Sorting, if it had been there. 

They climbed up the stairs, then onto the base of a tall spiral staircase. They began to climb, up and up, Charles could feel the staircase gently moving upwards with them. 

"Excuse me," he asked Filius, "How far up are we going?"

"Oh, right to the top of Ravenclaw Tower! Don't worry, the staircase will take us most of the way. I'd wear my legs out, otherwise!"

The staircase stopped moving, and they quickly ascended the last dozen steps up to a door with no handle. It had only a large bronze doorknocker in the shape of an eagle. 

"Other Houses have passwords to enter their common rooms, but Ravenclaw has something a little different. It can be tricky to start with, but don't worry – if the eagle doesn't let you in, wait for someone else to come along and help you. If the eagle is feeling cranky there can be a dozen people hanging about on the landing!" Filius stepped forward and lifted the doorknocker, letting it fall with a loud clang. 

The eagle peered at Filius with one beady eye, opened its beak and spoke, in a creaky voice.

"What gives life and death to the flower?"

"The sun," Filius replied instantly and the door creaked open. 

Inside, the common room wasn't cold and forbidding as Charles had been expecting, but a lovely round room that looked like it had escaped from a library. The walls were lined with books, interrupted only by tall windows with bronze and blue curtains; there were comfortable couches and armchairs, plus writing desks, scattered artfully over the midnight blue carpet. A tall marble statue of a woman overlooked everything, standing near an open fire at the far side of the room, with a huge, squashy couch and a thick rug in front of it. The older Ravenclaws were mostly lounging around the fire, but cheered when Filius and Chava led in the new students. 

"Yeah! New Ravenclaws!" yelled one boy. 

"Don't forget, Fifth and Seventh Years get dibs on the study desks!" a stressed-looking girl added, sitting at one. 

"Why Fifth and Seventh Years?" Charles asked. It seemed as if Ravenclaws liked questions.

"Exams!" chorused half the room. 

Chava herded the group together again, since they were all sidling off towards various bookcases. "Off to bed, the lot of you. You've got Transfiguration and Herbology tomorrow, so brush up on your texts tonight if you're not quite tired yet."

"But I've read them already!" said the brown-haired girl, Moira. 

"Anyone else read them already?" 

All seven First Years raised their hands. Most of the room laughed again, except for those already concentrating on reading or playing chess. 

"All right, all right, I give in. One book each, and off to bed. Quickly!"

They all scurried for the shelves and grabbed the first interesting book. Charles found himself with "Magic and Myths of South Wales", which had a rough leather cover stamped with gold dragons. 

Filius collected the three boys and took them out one door; Chava took the girls. Up another short spiral staircase, they went past six doors before reaching theirs. 

"Do we change rooms every year?" Larry asked.

"No, no, the room changes with you. My dormitory started up here and moved down every year since. Here you are!" 

The room had three enormous curtained beds, each with a nightstand-cum-bookcase beside it and a large trunk at the end; there was a single enormous wardrobe beside the door and three desks underneath the windows. The room was very well lit, globes of light hovering beside each bed and over each desk, plus another hovering beside the other door. 

"That's your shower and WC through there – the light by the door will go out when you're all in bed and come on if you get up. As for the other lights, tap them with your wand to switch them on and off."

"Do we need to do, um, a spell?" Hank asked. 

"No, no, not yet. You'll learn one soon that will be useful for that, though. Then you'll be able to turn them all off and on at once."

Their luggage was stacked neatly beside the tall wardrobe, and Charles was most relieved to see it at full size. He'd been starting to get worried that all his clothes would remain tiny until Dumbledore came to fix his spell. 

"Claim a bed each, be considerate if you're reading or studying late – that's what the curtains are for – and I'll knock at your door at seven tomorrow. Good night!"

With that, he lived up to his surname and flitted off down the stairs. 

Charles beamed at the other two. "I've already met Hank, but not for very long, but it's nice to meet you, Larry."

"Thanks! It's weird to be in the same house as my sister. I mean, we get along fine, but I thought I'd be getting away from her being here. She's really bossy."

"My sister and step-brother are both in Hufflepuff, so I hope she's alright," Charles frowned. "Still, boys and girls are well separated, so she should have somewhere safe to go."

"Is Cain mean to her?" Hank asked. "I'm an only child, so I don't really pick up on those things."

"His dad was horrible to him, so he'd take it out on me and on Raven. But maybe without his dad around, he won't need to?"

"He sounds American, like you, Hank," Larry said. 

"Professor Dumbledore was in America finding students, and he found me," Hank shrugged. "I suppose Cain, Charles and Raven are the same. You sound British, Charles."

"Oh, yes, I grew up here until I was eight or so. My mother went to Hogwarts too, but she was a Slytherin."

"My mum was a Gryffindor and my dad was a Ravenclaw," Larry added. "It's pretty mixed up. There's some families where everyone's in the same house for generations."

Hank pushed his glasses up his nose. "So wizards tend to have wizard children?"

"Usually, but sometimes they have a squib instead."

"What's the difference between a squib and a Muggle, then?" 

Hank had asked a good question – Charles had never thought about that. 

Larry had obviously thought about this question, though. "Squibs have magical heritage but no magical ability. Muggles have no magical heritage and no magical ability. Muggle-born wizards have no magical heritage but magical ability."

"How do they predict that? I mean, are there inheritance charts?"

"I dunno – probably the Pureblood families have them. Those are the really old families with magic for generations."

Filius popped his head back in the door. "Bed!"

All three of them laughed, embarrassed, and chose a bed each, and put a few belongings into their trunks or wardrobes. 

"Oh look! Our ties are in the wardrobe!" Hank held them out, and all three of the instantly felt the need to put on the blue and bronze, so they did. 

Larry suddenly dove for his suitcase. "I've got a camera! Let's take a photo, for posterity."

"We don't have any posterity," Charles laughed. 

"We'll have to get some then!" He set the camera up on the desk, peeping through the viewfinder to set it up just right, then ran over and joined Charles and Hank. "Snap!" he yelled and the camera took its photo, blinding them momentarily. 

"I wonder where we send it to be developed?" he asked, but Filius had peered around the door again. 

"Don't make me tell you again, please! I don't want Ravenclaw to have a poor showing on your first day of classes because you're short on sleep!"

"Yes, sir," they chorused, and all scrambled for bed. Charles was sure he'd never be able to sleep, but within moments he felt himself sliding under, his bed warm and his pillow cool, wand close to hand on the nightstand. 

\--- 

Raven woke up in her gigantic bed and jumped straight out of it in sheer excitement. The alarm clock on Petra's nightstand was ringing and Raven switched it off. 

"Thanks," came Petra's sleepy voice. 

Raven ran over to the other bed. "Mariko, Mariko! Time to get up!"

The curtains on the other bed were still closed, but Mariko's head popped out through the curtains. "Oh! Raven! Your hair looks so neat, even after you've slept on it!"

Mariko and her cousin Shiro were from Japan and – in a complicated agreement that Raven didn't really understand – had been sent to Hogwarts because there was some kind of political problem involving Mariko and Shiro's grandfather. The part Raven did understand was that their mothers were glad to see them safely out of the country: Japan was in ruins and all kinds of terrible things were happening, even to Wizarding families. 

Mariko's hair was long enough to sit on, and, first thing in the morning, certainly wasn't tidy like Raven's. "Do you want me to brush your hair, Mariko? I used to brush Mother's hair when she was really sick and she said I was really gentle."

"Thank you! I had a nanny to do it at home." 

"Can I help?" Petra asked. "I really want long hair but my mum says it's not practical."

"You should grow it anyway! She's not going to see it until term holidays!" Raven giggled. She never liked to have someone telling her how to look. 

After they'd run around having showers and going to the cosy little bathroom beside their dorm, they had Mariko sit on one of the squashy chairs and Petra and Raven each brushed out one side of her long hair. Despite a few tangles, Mariko didn't complain, and Raven happily played around with different hairstyles for her. They'd settled on long braids pinned up at the top of her head like a pretzel when there was a knock at their door. 

"Good morning, girls! Are you ready to come down for breakfast? Bring your books – you've got Herbology first and the greenhouse is a fair trek from here." Zenobia Smith was one of the Hufflepuff prefects and Raven thought she was amazing. She was a big, athletic girl with short pale hair and was the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team. What had won Raven's eternal loyalty was that when Raven was sorted into Hufflepuff, Zenobia had jumped up and hugged her in excitement. 

"We're nearly ready!" Petra quickly brushed her own hair and grabbed her satchel: Mariko had sensibly insisted that they pack them the night before, so that they wouldn't forget anything in the morning. Raven was still astonished they were expected to write with quill pens, but she'd packed hers and a spare – and an exciting pocketknife that had come with the set of pens – and her textbook. Charles had been up all night the night before the train reading his. Raven had been astonished that even Charles would be that boring. He wouldn't take her anywhere, and she wasn't quite game to go out after dark on her own, considering Mr Shunpike's stories about child-eating beasties, but at least she'd got to sit in the pub downstairs and drink a delicious drink named Butterbeer. She'd met a few other students, too, including Petra. Petra's family was Danish, but her father had been working in London at the time war broke out and it wasn't safe for them to go home. They'd gone now, but not before Petra received her letter to Hogwarts. 

"I certainly wasn't going to turn that down, even if Professor Merrythought had to visit to convince my parents," she'd said. Neither of her parents were wizards, but her great-aunt on her mother's side was, which rather softened the surprise. 

Petra had been thrilled to be sorted into Hufflepuff – like Raven, she hadn't had much chance to make friends in the past, in Petra's case because other children mocked her accent and called her a Jerry – and she, Mariko and Raven were getting along very well already. There were five boys in their house as well, and, although Raven would never tell anyone, she'd been very relieved to find out that boys weren't allowed in the tunnels of the girls' dormitories. More than once in the past she'd woken up to Cain pulling her out of bed by her hair and yelling at her for something she had or hadn't done. The other boys seemed nicer, though: Sean, the Irish boy, and Jamie Madrox, from Scotland, were funny, and Lucas Bishop was a bit shy but from Australia, which overruled any negative qualities in Raven's mind. She didn't know about Fred Dukes yet, but she thought it was probably a good thing that there was at least one other boy bigger than Cain in their year. Or maybe they'd team up. That would be bad. 

Breakfast was a magnificent feast nearly as good as dinner. Raven was quite surprised to see people eating fish for breakfast and stuck to eggs with toast and honey herself. She managed to catch Charles' eye and wave to him across at the next table. He waved back and spoke to someone else, then ran over to her. 

"Raven! Are you okay? Is Cain bothering you?"

"No, Charles, don't be silly. Everything's fine. This is my friend Petra, and this is my friend Mariko."

"Pleased to meet you," Charles said with a smarmy grin and Raven kicked him in the ankle. 

Charles turned slightly, as if to show his lack of interest in what Raven's friends thought of him. "What classes do you have today? Are we in the same class?"

"Um, Herbology in the morning and Potions in the afternoon."

"Oh, we're together for Herbology, then! I'll see you there."

"Bye!" Raven gave him a little shove back to his own table and sat down again. 

"That's your brother? But you have different names!" Petra complained. "I mean, I know Cain is your step-brother…"

"Yes, but I'm adopted. Charles wrote my name in the family tree and that's who I am. It's about all I can remember, actually."

"Maybe you're cursed!" Sean Cassidy leaned over to join in their conversation. He was eating a large pile of bacon and nothing else. 

"Wouldn't Dumbledore have known if I was cursed?" Raven asked him, rather fascinated by the idea.

"Maybe part of the curse is that he can't tell you! My grandfather got cursed once, and his nose turned purple and grew five big warts, right down the middle! No-one mortal could help him, so he had to ask the fairies."

There was appreciative silence for this horrible and colourful fate. 

"Right-o, everyone off to class," called Edgar Bones, the other prefect, and everyone started shuffling to their feet, in Sean's case cramming in another three rashers of bacon as he went. 

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs all found each other quickly, and Chava the Ravenclaw prefect came over with a big, freckled, ginger-haired man in tow. He wore immaculate white robes, which only highlighted the dirt worn deeply into his fingers. He also had a flowering moss growing on his left hand, little white blossoms bobbing as he gestured. 

"Hello, pupils. I'm Professor Beery, Head of Ravenclaw House." He had a fairly strong Northern English accent which Raven found a bit hard to follow, though Mariko seemed even more lost. "Follow me out to the greenhouse and we'll introduce ourselves there."

At least he didn't look like he'd be cross if Raven had to ask him something. They all trailed after Professor Beery out of the castle and through a courtyard that had two doors at the far end, but when they reached the doors, there was only one. Professor Beery didn't seem to find this odd, and led them down to an enormous greenhouse. 

He stopped outside the door. "First, safety! While I certainly intend to keep the most dangerous plants away you, do not touch any plant without my permission, even if it looks completely harmless. Especially if it looks completely harmless."

Charles and Hank McCoy laughed, but no-one else did. 

"This is not a joke, Mr Xavier, Mr McCoy. There are plants in there – the less dangerous plants – that will see you in the infirmary for a week. And don't imagine the teachers go easy on students who cause themselves problems like an overgrown head, or slowed perception of time, or their fingers joined together. No, they'll know that you brought that on yourself."

"I wasn't asking anyone to 'go easy'," Charles retorted. Raven grimaced – Charles always had the idea that he was some sort of adult, and most adults didn't like that. Fortunately, Professor Beery seemed to find it funny. 

"We'd see how you feel if your hair was turned into poison ivy, Mr Xavier. In the meantime, I'll put you in charge of handing out the protective gloves." He directed Charles towards a wooden barrel outside the greenhouse and turned to the rest of the students. "I expect you to bring these gloves to every lesson, otherwise you'll be required to observe rather than participate. Don't be alarmed when you put them on – they'll grow or shrink to the right size for you."

Everyone lined up for Charles to hand out pairs of thick but flexible leather gloves, which he drew from the barrel with a pair of oversized tongs. Raven was near the end of the line, and heard students gasping in surprise as Charles dropped the gloves into their hands. The moment hers touched her skin, they wriggled around like mice then relaxed into an enormous, floppy pair of gloves. Raven frowned and went into the greenhouse, the tips of her fingers barely reaching the base of the fingers of the glove. 

Once everyone had made it in – Raven glanced around and everyone else's gloves fit properly – Professor Beery handed heavy silver trays down the long bench, followed by tiny gardening tools. 

"This term's project is going to be the creation of your own magical herb garden. We'll grow plants that thrive in similar conditions – different climate zones within the same tray is a little advanced for you right now – but the first thing we need to learn about is what kinds of soil best supports magical plants. Miss Darkholme, why are you fidgeting?"

Raven wriggled uncomfortably as everyone stared at her. "I'm sorry, Professor, but my gloves are too big."

"My goodness, really? Ah yes, you're the metamorphmagus, aren't you? Your own magic must be interfering with the gloves. Pop them on the bench for the time being and I'll fix them for you before you start to layer the soil."

Professor Beery showed them several different kinds of soils and the kinds of plants that could grow in them, asking them to choose between a moist or arid garden before they chose their soils, and the correct kind of drainage. Raven was most fascinated by one particular ingredient: the fertiliser. 

"At Hogwarts, we are very fortunate to be close to the second largest wild unicorn herd in the British Isles. This provides us with access to the best of all magical fertilisers: unicorn dung."

There were giggles around the table, and Hank McCoy opened his mouth, looking cross, then thought the better of it and shut it again. 

"Yes, unicorn dung. Properly prepared, it will provide magical energy for your plants to slowly leach from the soil. Unlike dragon dung, it is not overwhelming to smaller plants and is particularly useful for leafy herbs."

Fred Dukes raised his hand. 

"Yes, Mr Dukes?"

"Do we have to go and collect it? Uh, I mean, we'd have to do that early in term because you have to let it dry out first, if it's like horse manure."

"Excellent reasoning, Mr Dukes, and five points to Hufflepuff."

Raven jumped up and down a bit in excitement: she hadn't realised that the teachers would give out points like that. Cain and Sean Cassidy slapped Fred on the back, and he looked both embarrassed and delighted. 

Professor Beery continued. "The answer is no: the Forbidden Forest can be a dangerous place and I wouldn't take First Years in there. You haven't learned to defend yourselves yet. We have unicorn manure ready for you to use. Each of you should take your tray and use the wooden slats to set up divisions – six or eight, depending on how much space each plant needs – and then start preparing your soil according to the charts above the soil bins. Don't be afraid to talk amongst yourselves and ask me if you have any questions."

The students grabbed for the plywood dividers and Professor Beery beckoned Raven over. She took her oversized gloves and trotted to the far end of the bench. Unlike the rest of the greenhouse, with a riot of different plants all arranged for the right temperature and right amount sunlight and water, one side of this part of the greenhouse was entirely dedicated to growing a single kind of small tree. There were a dozen of them, all about Raven's height, or a little taller, with leaves about the size and shape of her fingers. 

"Put the gloves on the bench, Miss Darkholme – we don't want them to adapt to my hands!"

Raven did, then asked, "What are all those plants? The ones that look the same?"

Professor Beery tapped a glove with his wand, revealing a glowing line of stitches around the edge. "There, those should fit you now. The plants are _Myrica gale_ , or bay-rum berry. It's an important component of a scrying potion that we had to use a great deal during the War."

"Is that like spying?" Raven pulled the gloves on: they squeezed a little too tight for a moment, then settled to a perfect fit, the glowing subsiding to a pale yellow line. 

"A little, yes. Most of Europe was a very dangerous place for wizards to go, if they opposed Grindelwald, or if they had too great an attachment to Muggle friends and relatives. We tried to at least get children out of the warzone, but it became more and more difficult as time went on and Grindelwald's powers grew – hence the need for scrying at a distance."

Raven looked at the row of trees. "That's a lot of scrying, I suppose."

"Indeed. The leaves and berries are certainly useful in other potions and incantations as well, but I doubt we will continue to devote so much space to the leaf-yield of this tree now. We'll plant them outside, I suspect. They'll do well."

"I'm glad you don't throw them away!" 

Professor Beery laughed. "Of course not! That would be terribly disrespectful."

It was surprisingly complicated, setting up a properly drained herb tray, and by the time Professor Beery dismissed them for lunch, Raven was tired, hungry and sweaty from the humid air. She certainly wasn't as hot and sweaty as everyone else – Charles and Cain were both bright red and Petra looked like she was about to pass out. 

The crisp, fresh air outside was a bit of a shock, but perked everyone up again. Bigger kids were running everywhere, so the two groups of First Years stuck close together – and close behind Fred and Cain – as they tried to avoid being trampled on their way to the lunch hall. As they went in, Mariko tugged Raven's sleeve. 

"Are we allowed to go, to you know…" She blushed.

"The bathroom?" Raven glanced around and saw the outline of where a sign had been on the wall, the "female" outline still clear. "Oh, there, come on."

Petra and two Ravenclaw girls, Moira and Tanya, came with them, and they went down a rather cold and clammy hall, which was completely deserted. 

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Petra said hesitantly, but then Moira spotted another sign. 

"No, look, it's this way. Hurry up, I'm busting."

The bathroom was around the corner, and unfortunately was as dingy and clammy as the hallway, and looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a while. Still, there were toilets and big trough-like sinks around a weird statue and soap still on the ledges, so they must be in the right place. 

"Yuk, they should clean this place with magic," Tanya muttered.

Moira was apparently as busting as she said, because she didn't hesitate at all, but barged past Tanya and Raven and into a stall. "There's a bit of water on the floor but it's not smelly! And there's plenty of paper!" she called out. 

The other girls hurried off into a stall each, not wanting to miss out on lunch, but as Raven was about to sit down, a dreadful shriek came from her toilet. Raven spun around but she couldn't see anything. 

"Did you hear that?" she yelled to the other girls. 

"It's probably just the pipes!" Moira shouted back. "They make horrible noises in old places like this!"

"They should fix that with magic!" Petra added, and everyone giggled. 

Raven eyed the toilet dubiously and moved to the next stall instead. Again, as she was about to sit down, a horrible moaning noise emerged. Raven ran out of the stall. "It happened again!" 

Moira was washing her hands. "Go to my stall, then, Raven, it didn't make funny noises."

Raven did, and for the third time leapt away as a long, low moan came out of the toilet. "Raaaaaveeeeeeennnnn…"

"Ah! It knows my name!" Raven scrambled over to where Moira and Mariko waited near the door. 

Moira pursed her lips. "Oh, you're being silly. I'm going to go and look." Moira stomped over to the toilet and looked in, only to be hit by a jet of water from the toilet.

Raven and Mariko screamed, though not as loudly as Moira did. Petra and Tanya ran out of their stalls to see what was happening, in time to see a furious, dripping Moira draw her wand and point it at the toilet. 

"Whoever's doing this, get out of that toilet or I'll blast you to smithereens!" 

Raven was pretty sure that Moira had no more idea how to blast someone to smithereens than Raven herself did, but she sounded awfully convincing. Moments later, a translucent, greenish head popped out of the toilet bowl. 

"Out!" Moira bellowed, and the rest of a transparent body followed. It was a girl only slightly older than them, with pigtails and thick glasses, hovering in mid-air. 

"You've no bloody right to run around playing tricks on girls going to the toilet!" Moira shouted at the girl.

"She's a ghost!" Mariko squeaked. "Don't make her angry!"

"You'd better not make me angry!" the ghost said in a strange, hollow voice. "I'm very scary! Did you see that blue girl run? What kind of girl is blue anyway?"

Raven folded her arms. "I'm a metamorphmagus, don't you know? And who are you?"

"I'm dead!" the girl shouted and flew in a great loop around the ceiling. "Murdered!" 

Moira yelled. "Well, maybe you should stop flying around making a fool of yourself and do something about it!" 

The girl floated down again. "Really? You're not scared of me? But I'm a ghost!"

"You're a blithering idiot, that's what. I'm Moira. What's your name?"

"Myrtle."

Raven stepped forward, to stand by Moira, not so close she got dripped on. "Good, now we're on a first name basis. I'm Raven, and that's Tanya, Mariko and Petra. We're going to have lunch now, but we'll come back later. All right?"

"All right…" the ghost moaned, and dove into the toilet. 

The girls dashed out of the bathroom and halfway down the hall before they ran into Zenobia Smith and two other big girls, who were running towards them with their wands out. 

"Zenobia! Help! There's a ghost!" Petra yelled.

Zenobia grabbed her by the shoulder. "Is there anyone left behind?"

"No! Moira and Raven talked to the ghost!"

Zenobia pointed her wand at Moira and said " _Adsiccavatos_ ". "That's Myrtle – she was a Ravenclaw in the year below mine and she was killed three years ago. Another student was sneaking giant spiders and all kinds of dangerous things into the castle, and they got loose, and well. Poor Myrtle."

Moira shook herself like a dog, but she was quite dry now. "Does this happen a lot?"

One of the other girls laughed, nervously. "Oh no. Just to poor Myrtle. There were some other students who were temporarily Petrified, but they were all fine."

"And Myrtle kept haunting one Ravenclaw girl – the girl who found her body, no less – until she had to pack up and go to Beauxbatons last year. They had to exorcise Myrtle."

"She's still there, though," Moira replied, sceptically. 

"Oh, yes, you can't make ghosts go away, but you can detach them from people. Most of the ghosts here are hundreds of years old, so I don't think Myrtle gets along with them very well."

"Enough of that!" Zenobia Smith put her wand away. "If we don't get to lunch right now, we're going to miss out. How did you girls end up in this bathroom anyway?"

"You can still see the shape of the sign," Raven told her. "It was my fault, I saw it."

"It's not your fault, Raven, you didn't realise." As they walked to the Great Hall, Raven showed Zenobia the still-visible sign and Zenobia tutted. "All right, I'll tell Mr Pringle. Go and get something to eat, then duck upstairs for your Potions books, okay?"

"Okay!" they chorused and ran off to join the rest of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. 

\--- 

Erik liked the castle. There were lots of doors – and windows easily big enough to climb through – in nearly every room, which made him think that Dumbledore's claims that this was a school, not a training ground were true. Anywhere military would have a lot more discipline than this, and certainly wouldn't let children roam all over the place. Even the dormitory he shared with four other boys had big windows that opened to a view of the lake, although one of the two doors led only to a bathroom and toilet. 

Armando was one of only two English boys in the dormitory, as it turned out. The other was Karl Lykos, a skinny straw-haired boy who had mumbled something about liking to be outside first thing in the morning and, indeed, had been gone at first light and returned with Ignatius Prewett, the male prefect, half an hour later. Shiro Yoshida, an arrogant and coolly polite student from Japan, told them that he had heard England had many adherents to old religions such as druidism, and Karl was probably greeting the dawn. Erik was deeply dubious about this theory because if druidism was so popular, why would Karl go alone? 

Alex Summers was an American, with the kind of simmering temper that Erik was expert at identifying, if not always at avoiding. He'd greeted Armando's friendly enquiries with a grunted, "Dumbledore brought me," before getting in his bed and drawing the curtains. For all Shiro's talk about his martial arts proficiency, Alex was the one Erik would bet on in a fight; also the one he'd bet on to start a fight. Armando seemed to like him, though. 

Their first class of the day had been Charms, shared with the Slytherins, and it was both strange and satisfying to finally channel all that random, twitchy magical energy into something useful. Erik was the second in the class to be able to produce a light with the Lumos spell – after that annoying girl Selene gained five points for Slytherin – though it was taking a great deal more work to keep it steady and not wink out the moment he wasn't concentrating on it. The teacher was a narrow-faced, older man named Adalbert Waffling, who had also written their textbook, and for all he looked like a mean old coot, he was surprisingly calm and helpful, even to Alex Summers who kept panicking every time he made a spark appear. By the end of the class, everyone could at least produce a glow for a few moments. Erik was surprised to find he'd quite enjoyed himself. He was among the oldest in this class and one of the tallest, though Cain that other Hufflepuff boy were certainly the biggest in their year. It was important to learn as much as possible to arm him for the outside world, as Dumbledore had said, but Erik thought he might have to review his strategy on whether doing it as fast as possible would be the best way. 

"Hey!" A small Slytherin girl ran up to him as they walked towards the dormitories to drop off their books, through hordes of other students. 

"What do you want? Angel Salvadore, isn't it?" 

"Yeah. I wanted to, you know, say hi. I heard you're friends with Raven from Hufflepuff."

He glared at Angel. "Well, you've said it. Go bother someone else."

"Okay, see you around." She ducked over to the other Slytherin girls, who seemed to be making friends with the two Gryffindor girls, and giggled. Erik felt most disconcerted. 

"Hey, what did Angel want?" Armando took her place at Erik's side, fortunately not leaning so close to him. 

"Do you know her?"

Armando grinned. "I've met pretty much everyone in our year by now, haven't you? I've got a few more Ravenclaws on the list and then I will have introduced myself to everyone."

"Why?" Erik was genuinely confused by Armando's interest in people, especially following Angel's greetings. 

Armando seemed just as surprised. "Don't you like making friends with people? I mean, I wouldn't say I'm friends with everyone, but if you don't meet them, you won't know."

"If you don't meet your potential enemy, you won't know, either."

"Yeah, but an enemy can hurt you from a distance. A friend you've got to keep close."

Erik couldn't argue with that: after all, he'd never met most of the people who decided to kill all the Jews, but they certainly hurt him. It was individuals who had helped him. 

He thought about what Armando had said all through lunch, which consisted of thick ham and vegetable soup and hearty sandwiches on soft bread two centimetres thick, followed by peculiar but sweet peppermint cupcakes. A few people tried to talk to Erik, but he didn't really have enough concentration to respond to them, not in the busy, crowded Great Hall, with people and food and occasionally ghosts travelling in all directions. At least the Gryffindor table had one side close to a wall, so he didn't have to try to be so aware of what anything going on behind him. 

The next class was Transfiguration, taught by Professor Dumbledore, and Erik was excited about it: he had seen Dumbledore do amazing things, and wanted to learn about his power. Not to defend against or surpass him –he was probably the only living person about whom Erik would say that – but to be as powerful and dangerous as he was.

The Transfiguration classroom was similar to the Charms classroom, rows of desks in an open and sunlit room, though one of the Ravenclaw girls, Moira, was huffy about that, as it had started raining outside. 

"It's magical sunlight, not real sunlight!" Charles was telling her as Erik walked in. "Like Professor Beery was saying, it lights and warms, but it won't provide what plants need to grow, or tan your skin."

"Yes, obviously – I was right there when he said it!" Moira shouted at him, and stomped off to take a seat with the other girls. Ravenclaw had four girls, more than any of the other houses, and they called Gabrielle and Suzanne over to sit with them. 

That left the boys of both houses shuffling for seats, and Erik ended up between Shiro and Charles. 

"Erik! Lovely to see you again. Sorry we lost you on the train." Charles beamed and extended a hand, which Erik bemusedly shook. Charles then reached over to Shiro and shook his hand. "And you're Shiro Yoshida? You were right behind me when we were Sorted."

"Nice to meet you," Shiro said, flatly. 

Dumbledore swept into the room, in pale blue robes with shining gold trim, embroidered stars sprinkled over the shoulders of the robe as if they'd casually fallen there. "Good afternoon! Welcome to Transfiguration!"

He wandered to the front of the classroom and surveyed the room. "I see we have Ravenclaws and Gryffindors today – wonderful! Can any of you tell me the three basic forms of transfiguration?"

All of the Ravenclaws shot up a hand, as did Suzanne and Karl from Gryffindor. 

"Wonderful! Let's start with you, Miss Voght – what are the first two types?"

"Permanent and impermanent, Professor!" 

"Excellent. And Mr Lykos, what is the third?"

"Integral."

"Superb! Five points to Ravenclaw and five to Gryffindor." Dumbledore pointed his wand at a teacup that sat on his desk. "An example of impermanent transformation: _Sheen nooni qadah!_ " 

The teacup turned into a small, confused-looking tortoise. It crept along the desk for a few moments, then its shell began to take on the flowery pattern of the cup and a few seconds later it was a teacup again. 

Charles had his hand up. "Professor, was that tortoise alive?"

"A pertinent question, Mr Xavier, and one that philosophers have not yet answered. The only reply that I can give you is that there is no consciousness in the teacup, before or afterwards."

"Professor, what if it's a permanent transformation? Then would the tortoise be alive?"

"Five points to Ravenclaw, Mr Xavier. You have pointed the class to a core difference between permanent and impermanent transformation: a transformation from an inert object into a living thing is always impermanent." He smiled, teeth flashing from under his beard. "Of course, the next question is the opposite: when you transfigure a living thing into an inert object, the transformation is also impermanent."

He pointed at a metre-high statue in the corner, a withered little stone tree in a stone pot. 

"This is a crab apple tree, and it is the longest lasting impermanent transformation in Britain: there are older in Xian, Jerusalem and Athens. It has been stone for eleven hundred years. Nonetheless, it slowly moves and grows; at its fastest, it grew nearly an inch in ten years. It was transfigured into stone by the druid Cerdic, who was angered by its sour fruit."

Shiro raised his hand and Dumbledore nodded towards him, giving permission to speak. 

"In Japan, there are living trees older than that."

"Indeed there are, Mr Yoshida, although they are not the topic of our discussion today. From our discussion of impermanent transfiguration, can you infer the conditions required for permanent transformation?"

Shiro thought for a moment, then replied, "An unliving object transfigured into another unliving object, or living to living?"

"Well done, and five points to Gryffindor. Now, you've learned the conditions for permanent and impermanent transfiguration, so we're going to move on to the third: integral transfiguration. This kind of transfiguration involves simply rearranging the components of an object, whether it is changing them or disassembling a complex object into its parts. Miss Chan, I believe you may be able to tell us something about this."

Suzanne looked startled. "Um, before my Hogwarts letter came, I accidentally turned some coal into diamonds. Tiny little diamonds."

"Carbon!" Hank McCoy said, quite loudly. 

"Indeed, Mr McCoy, though I would prefer it if you raised your hand: coal and diamonds are made of the same substance. This level of change is actually a very difficult transfiguration but, as I am sure many of you have experienced, the magic that you produce unwillingly and under emotional stress can be very strong indeed. Most adult wizards cannot do what Miss Chan did but learning to channel and direct their power has many other benefits. The most important, of course, is that you will be able to call upon your magic at will, and to direct it in the way that you wish."

Dumbledore's face turned quite serious for a moment, then he smiled again. "And on to today's practical lesson. I want each of you to transfigure a match into its components, without setting it on fire. I've Charmed your desks to be fireproof, and ordinary fire won't burn a wand, but watch your fingers!" 

With a wave of his wand, ten matches appeared on each student's desk. Erik frowned at them. He remembered a test like this, not with matches, and not with a wand or other students or any kind of explanation. 

"Please observe and copy," Dumbledore told them. "Wands out!" He demonstrated a sharp downward motion to an abrupt stop, which the class copied. "Very good! Keep the cut-off firm. Down and stop!"

Erik could hear Hank McCoy grumbling behind him. "But it shouldn't make any difference!" but ignored him. Erik didn't care why it worked, as long as it did. 

"There, and as the wand stops, _Dilapsasi_." The match that Dumbledore held up disintegrated into a swirl of dust and splinters. "Ouch." He sucked his finger. "And please don't follow my example and end up with a splinter in your finger. Off you go, I'll be wandering around seeing how you do."

Erik took one match from his ten, concentrated hard and brought the wand down with an abrupt, " _Dilapsasi_ ". The match rolled onto its side, but didn't change. 

"Oh, that's very good, mine didn't move at all," Charles said, leaning over to watch. 

"Let me concentrate," Erik snapped. He thought back to when he'd done this – well, something very like it – without a wand, without the focus of a word, with sheer power, and felt a sharp ache through his stomach and chest, just like it had been then. 

He thrust the wand downwards, hissing the word, " _Dilapsasi_ " this time, and all ten matches exploded, sending flaming debris in all directions. 

" _Deflammare_!" Dumbledore called and the flames immediately vanished. Erik looked to both sides to find that he'd destroyed the matches belonging to Shiro and Charles, too. 

"Mr Lehnsherr, what an excellent start!" Dumbledore sounded immensely pleased. "Five points to Gryffindor!" He strolled to the front of the classroom and more matches appeared in front of Shiro, Charles and Erik. "Mr Lehnsherr has given us an excellent demonstration of strength above finesse: something quite normal for wizards and witches of your age. Others among you may find that you have a great deal of skill, but find it difficult to put your shoulder into it, so to speak. Yet more may find that the standard spells do not suit their personal methods and begin to develop their own. 

"Over time, with help from your teachers and older students, all of you will begin to understand where your personal strengths lie as a wizard or witch, and you will be able to choose subjects according to where those interests lie. In First Year, though, we require everyone to take the same foundational courses so that you may get the broadest possible exposure to various forms of magic. Now, there's another five points waiting for the student who first manages the transfiguration without explosions, so I suggest you all get to work."

Erik thought that he should feel embarrassed, but instead he was pleased to at least be strong, if he couldn't be accurate. Other students hadn't accomplished much at all, though by the end of the lesson Charles, Moira and both Trask siblings had at least managed to separate the coating on the match-head from the wood. 

"An excellent class, all of you. I'll see you again on Thursday, but in the meantime, homework!" 

Several students groaned, and others looked pleased. 

"The definitions of the three forms of configuration, each with an example, maximum of six inches of parchment, brought to me at the start of class on Thursday."

Tanya Trask's and Hank McCoy's hands went up. 

"Yes, my dear Ravenclaws, I said maximum. Brevity and clarity are virtues." 

Their hands went down again. 

"Ah, your prefects are here to collect you. We shall bid a sad farewell!" Dumbledore made a shooing gesture. "Go!"

Everyone got their books and pens together, the matches disappearing from their desks, and started to head for the door. 

"That was amazing," Charles told Erik. "It's a bit odd to be in a class with eleven-year-olds – you look older. I'm thirteen already."

"You are?" Erik was surprised: Charles wasn't very tall, and Erik found it difficult to tell children's ages on anything other than that. "I'm nearly fourteen."

"Hank and Cain are older, too. Filius said that we'll have free time from now until dinner, and then some more time after dinner – do you want to meet up in the library after dinner? I mean, we can study and get ahead, and then the Headmaster might put us in a class of the right age."

Erik shrugged. "I haven't learned anything about magic before. I'm starting from the beginning."

"Oh, yes, you're Muggle-born, aren't you? I completely forgot. But you did so well in class today, and, honestly, the things we're taught at home until we're old enough for school don't have much to do with magic. More reading and maths, that kind of thing."

"I'll be there if my House doesn't have something else planned. It sounds like you'll be there anyway."

"Oh yes, I'm so excited about finally getting to the library!" Charles beamed, then hurried over to the other Ravenclaws, who were heading off down a different corridor, following Chava Prydeman. 

Erik followed Tessie Prewett towards the Gryffindor common room and thought about what Charles had said. It was odd to think that Charles, so friendly and engaged, had assumed that Erik had a Wizarding background. If Erik had, he would most likely already have been at school for two years; either that or dead, he supposed. Dumbledore had told him about all the people Grindelwald had killed for standing up to him. The basis of their war – that Grindelwald thought wizards should rule over Muggles – confused Erik, as he didn't understand why wizards shouldn't rule over Muggles. Wizards were far more powerful than Muggles, after all. Wizards removed Muggle-born children from their homes and raised them as wizards: was that so different from what Grindelwald wanted? Still, Erik agreed that Grindelwald's tactics of killing wizards who opposed him and wizards who tried to save Muggle family members were wrong and should be stopped. There weren't enough wizards to waste by killing each other, and if Grindelwald had gone about his business without the murder, he probably wouldn't have been taken down. Then again, some of the things Erik had heard people say to Dumbledore made him think that perhaps Grindelwald had really enjoyed the terror and killing, regardless of his stated goals, and Erik was certainly familiar with men like that. 

The Gryffindor common room was a friendly space, which Erik had liked immediately. It was a big room built around a fireplace, full of mismatched furniture, well-worn books, chess boards, stray student detritus like scarves and wooden bats that were apparently for the game of Quidditch, and there was always food around. A jug of perpetually hot water and a jug of perpetually cold milk on a sideboard let them make up cocoa or tea, and today there was a large wooden board with slices of buttered date loaf on it. There were so many slices that Erik felt no hesitation at all in going over and eating three, and no-one paid the slightest bit of attention to him doing so. 

"First Years!" Tessie Prewett shouted, "Get yourselves something to eat! It's another two-and-a-half hours to dinner!" 

Those that hadn't quickly did, and Tessie proceeded to show them more of the Common Room than they'd seen last night: a cupboard full of supplies if they needed ink or parchment or new quills, a noticeboard which only had two notices on it right now – one about Quidditch tryouts and one offering tutoring in Arithmancy – and a chest-of-drawers stuffed full of spare clothes left behind by former students. 

"The warmest socks and gloves I've ever were out of there," Tessie reminisced, though the common room was so cosy that winter seemed a long time away. "Feel free to take anything you need – once you start learning to ride a broomstick, you can go through an awful lot of clothes!" 

Erik wasn't sure if he liked the sound of needing more clothes, but then, he'd seen a painting downstairs of a woman in helmet and goggles riding a broomstick high in the air. Flying would be a good skill to have.

Shiro approached Erik. "We should start that homework. We might not have time to do it later."

"Fine," Erik said and retrieved some parchment and ink from the cupboard, handing it to Shiro, Armando and Suzanne, who'd joined their group. "Let me get some cocoa first."

He and Suzanne both did, then sat at one of the many small tables that dotted the room, which left barely enough space for everyone to get their parchment on, plus a shared ink bottle and the mugs of cocoa. There were a few others, especially the oldest students, reading or doing homework in various spots around the room, but certainly not the majority. He sighed and dipped his quill pen in the ink, rather glad that he'd had a chance to learn to write with one when he was in Ireland. They were always so scratchy and difficult. 

"In Japan, we use brushes," Shiro informed them, though here he was confined to a quill pen, just like everyone else.


	4. Chapter 4

As far as Raven could tell, most of the Hufflepuffs had got into that House in exactly the same way she had: the Sorting Hat had asked her what she most wanted at Hogwarts, she'd replied, "Friends," and straight into Hufflepuff she went. Mariko said that she had told the Hat she wanted to not shame her family, but apparently that worked too. They had spent an excellent afternoon in a dark dungeon making a cauldron full of smelly potion that was supposed to keep rabbits away, then the hearty Professor Slughorn had taken them all outside to paint it around empty garden beds to see whose was effective. He cast a spell to summon dozens of rabbits – much to the delight of the students – and most of the potions did, in fact, make the rabbits hesitate before they went for the cabbage leaves they'd placed in the empty beds. Raven and Sean's potion made the rabbits have three tries before finally hopping over to eat the cabbage, but two of the Slytherin students, Selene and a plump Egyptian boy named Amahl Farouk, managed to brew such a good potion that their rabbits stayed out completely. For that, they won five points for Slytherin and an exemption from their homework. Slughorn's class was so much fun that no-one really minded, though, and the homework wouldn't take long. 

Raven had just sat down on one of the squashy bumblebee-striped sofas in their common room, thick slice of date loaf in hand, when an older student came over to her. 

"You're Raven Darkholme?" At Raven's nod, she continued, "I've got a message for you from Professor Black: he's going to meet with you tomorrow afternoon for tea. He says I should take you to his office."

"Oh!" Raven remembered him from Platform 9 ¾ but had thought he was just being friendly when he talked about metamorphmagi. "Um, of course. Petra, what class do we have tomorrow afternoon?"

"Charms," Petra told her. 

"Fine, I'll find you there," the older girl said. She sounded a bit cross, and Raven was worried. 

"Did I do something wrong?" she whispered to Petra and Mariko.

"I don't know!" Mariko said. "Professor Black teaches Divination and we don't learn that yet – maybe it's a breach of etiquette for teachers to talk to students who aren't in their classes."

"She was cross with me, not with the Professor."

Mariko laughed. "You really haven't been to school before, have you? She can't be cross at Professor Black, because he's her teacher, so she'll be cross at you instead."

"Or she's got a crush on Professor Black," Petra giggled. 

"He's so old! And he's got a beard!"

Zenobia Smith leaned over their couch. "Was everything okay today, girls? Any questions?"

"Um, yes, when do we do our homework?" Petra asked. 

"You've got free time now, after dinner and on Friday afternoon, plus the weekend. But we have lots of House activities on the weekend, so I wouldn't plan on having too much time then! Do you want to go to the library?"

"Yes!" Raven replied. She wanted to find out about metamorphmagi and Professor Black's family, at the very least. 

"Righty-o, grab your things and I'll take you down there. It's easy to find after you've done it once. Oh, and wash your hands. Madam Fletcher is very fussy about clean hands in her library."

The three girls ran off and did as they were told, then followed Zenobia off to the library. She was correct that wasn't hard to find at all – unlike most of the classrooms it seemed to remain in one place – and there were dozens of students going in or out at any one time. The three girls hurried in and were immediately pinned to the spot by the dark-eyed glare of the librarian, Madam Fletcher. 

"You will walk quietly and slowly in my library, girls, or you will be thrown out."

"Yes, Madam Fletcher," they chorused, automatically forming a row in front of her. 

"Now, if you wish to find a book on a particular topic, simply ask the catalogue. If it is not helpful, you may ask an older student – quietly – or ask me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Madam Fletcher."

She had been indicating a series of large hearing trumpets affixed to a wall when she mentioned the catalogue, so Raven headed over there when Madam Fletcher took her eyes off them to tell off a Gryffindor boy for "hurtling". 

Glancing around, Raven saw other students speak into the hearing trumpets, so she followed suit. "Excuse me! I would like a book on metamorphmagi, please. One that's not too hard."

A ticket spat out of a small brass slot beneath the hearing trumpet. It said "Magical Beings Among Us! by Winford Wemble. Aisle 46, third bookcase on the left, second shelf from the top."

Raven showed the other girls. "Well, that's very precise! Come on!" They walked, quietly and slowly, down the aisles to their destination. The shelves were stuffed with books of all shapes and sizes, and there were a few flying overhead, as if their open pages were wings. Not all the books were leather and paper, either: there were scrolls of sewn-together leaves, wool-worked tapestries, letters etched in glass plates, and Raven was sure she'd spotted a bejewelled abacus, though she had no idea how that counted as a book. 

The book was exactly where the catalogue had said – there was even a stepladder there to let Raven reach the second shelf from the top – and it seemed to be a new book, with a jolly-looking wizard waving and smiling on the front cover. When Raven peered closer, it turned out that the man had bright pink rabbit ears sticking out of his head. Petra took a book at random, Mariko had her homework – she was worried about keeping up in English, though as far as Raven and Petra could tell, her English was perfect – and they all sat at one of the big study tables. As they sat, the chairs rose up to a more comfortable height so that, although their feet were dangling, they could comfortably prop their elbows on the table and read their books. 

Winford Wemble, according to his book, had been born with rabbit ears, as members of his family occasionally were. There was a rumour that an ancestor had been cursed, but Mr Wemble seemed to think this was unlikely, as he'd never found rabbit ears to be much of a problem. His brightly illustrated book went on to talk about wizards from different nations and their different customs and wizards who were part giant, part goblin or just looked a bit different, like himself. There was a chapter on werewolves, who had a disease that made them very dangerous at the full moon but not the rest of the time, and on wizards who lived very long lives for no apparent reason. Finally, there was a chapter on metamorphmagi, complete with an illustration of a long-faced man in a frock coat who changed into all sorts of people and even turned his nose into a pig nose. Raven giggled at this, and tried to do the same to show Petra and Mariko, but it didn't really work. Still, she could practise! 

Metamorphmagi, as Charles had always said, were most common in very old families who had been marrying other wizards for a long time. Raven frowned at this, but over the page there was a picture of a woman in a pretty sari who changed her shape just as easily as the man in the frock coat had. The text said that she had been born to Muggle parents in Bangalore who were very surprised by her shape-changing, but a local guru (a word which the books said sometimes applied to Hindu wizards) assured them that she was perfectly healthy and advised them to send her to school. 

"I wish I was a Hindu, then," Raven grumped. 

"Your parents still might not have found a guru." Petra tried to console her. 

"Also, you wouldn't be at Hogwarts," Mariko told her. "My parents considered sending me to the new academy in New Delhi. Wealthy Indian wizards and witches used to send their children here, to Hogwarts, but now that India is independent they've developed their own school. It's supposed to be very good, but my cousin Shiro's parents were set on Hogwarts."

"Well, I do love Hogwarts, but India sounds fun!" Raven changed her skin to look as if she was wearing jewels in her ears like the woman in the picture wore in some of her guises. She'd practised jewellery before, copying Mother's, so it wasn't too hard to do. "And I wanted to meet more children before coming here. I kept changing my shape all the time and Mother was really embarrassed. So I was stuck in the house."

Mariko patted her arm. "No-one is embarrassed here. Did you see how excited the entire House was when you were Sorted here?"

"Yeah, that's true. I guess Professor Black can't have anything too terrible to tell me, like I'm his long-lost daughter or something!"

Petra smirked. "Then you'd be Raven Black and we'd think you were a tin of boot polish!" 

They all giggled, immediately quelled by a hard glare from two older students, obviously potential librarians themselves, and tiptoed away to put the book away. 

\--- 

Erik greatly enjoyed the meals at Hogwarts. He could actually choose what he wanted, though there was nothing he hadn't at least tried so far, and eat to his heart's content, surrounded by other students doing exactly the same thing. The one time he'd glanced up from his plate he'd caught a worried expression from the older Jewish student in Gryffindor, Arnold Astrovik, so he made sure not to look further than the dishes in front of him again. He didn't want someone coming to tell him he should keep kosher, or he was embarrassing the other Jews, or even worse, that they were worried about him. Gabrielle, across from him, was eating just as heartily, though since she was more than a head shorter, not nearly as much. At the end of the evening meal, Erik was still ploughing through a plate of custard and rhubarb when a small stone appeared on the edge of his plate. He picked it up, and heard Dumbledore's voice in his mind. 

"After dinner, please come to my office, near the Transfiguration classroom. There is an issue we need to discuss."

Erik looked up at the teacher's table but Dumbledore didn't appear angry or worried, sitting at the head table and laughing with the Potions master, Professor Slughorn, so maybe it was news about someone he knew. Or that Schmidt was dead. That would be good. 

He slowed down a bit as he shovelled in his dessert so that he'd finish after other students, who were starting to wander out of the hall; several of the teachers, including Dumbledore, had gone, too. When most of them had departed, and Ignatius the prefect had checked that Erik would be able to get back to the dorm on his own, he scraped his plate clean and made his way out of the Great Hall. Erik had a flawless sense of direction that not even Hogwarts could befuddle – though he was frequently frustrated by stairs or passageways not going as far as he needed them to go, and having to take another route – and had no problem finding the Transfiguration classroom, even if he did have to go over the library because a staircase had moved. Dumbledore's office was a little further down the hall, and Erik knocked on the door. 

"Come in, Erik!" 

Erik did so, unable to stop himself staring around the room in amazement. It would have been a fairly spacious office, except that Dumbledore had filled it with magical items from all over the world. There was a large metal basin on a stone plinth at one side of the room, a rug that glowed as he stepped on it, intricate banners and tapestries with writing that Erik couldn't read – there was one in Hebrew script that he could sound out but he didn't understand it – and a painted mural of various magical animals prancing around on the ceiling. Hanging over Dumbledore's desk was a large golden cage with the door open; inside it was an ugly, almost featherless bird, though it wasn't a chicken.

"That's my friend Fawkes – he's a phoenix. Not at his best at the moment, I must admit, but that's what he is."

"Oh. Does he burst into flame?" There had been a picture of a phoenix in the book Brendan and Diarmuid had used to teach him English.

"Indeed, on occasion. Please take a seat, Erik. There are sweets on the desk if you would care for any."

Erik sat, and took a handful of sweets from the bowl on the desk. The sweets were clear, firm jellies each with a leaf or flower inside, and when he ate one it was flavoursome but squishy in his mouth. 

Dumbledore's face suddenly became very serious, and Erik tensed. 

"Erik, do you remember what I told you about Doctor Schmidt?"

"Yes. He's also known as Shaw, he used to teach at Durmstrang, he had an obsession with so-called raw magic, the kind that doesn't use a wand."

"Yes, you would remember that well. Do you recall what I said about his plans?"

Erik nodded again. "He pretended that he was too scared of Grindelwald to fight him, so he's probably not going to jail."

"What I did not expect, Erik, was that Shaw would be so happily accepted back into the wizarding community. He found several other Muggle-born wizard children before you, all of whom I believe he experimented on before taking some of them to safety."

"I thought I was – did he have any of them after me? I thought you said you'd stopped him!"

"We did, Erik. You were the last of his victims. But those other children he rescued, well, he leveraged that into some kind of heroism."

"Heroism?"

"Shaw claimed that he saved as many Muggle-born wizarding children as he could, taking them out of the queue as they came to the camps. The other five children he 'saved' were apparently not as interesting to him as you were: as far as I can ascertain, he kept them for a period of two to three months each, then cast a powerful memory charm on them and released them in a village near Durmstrang where they would be quickly found by wizards."

"What kind of memory charm? Can't you undo it?"

"Memory charms, as with all spells that work on the mind, are very difficult to reverse, and attempting it can cause irreparable damage. Shaw claimed that he had to remove their memories to keep his cover – from both the Muggles and Grindelwald's forces – and this has been widely accepted."

Erik felt very cold, the kind of cold where he didn't shiver anymore. "So Shaw is a hero for saving those children. What happened to their parents?"

"Erik, I'm sorry."

"I understand. Where is Shaw now?"

"He interviewed for a position at Durmstrang and they turned him down. They are understandably paranoid about being seen working with anyone with even the slightest association with Grindelwald, as several of the faculty did in fact work with him in one capacity or another, though not always willingly. Instead, the Austrian Ministry of Magic has given him a job, as International Co-ordinator in the Department of Games and Sports."

Erik shrugged, feeling helpless. "I know you don't want to go to kill him, but at least he's probably not going to hurt anyone there?" He wasn't entirely sure why Dumbledore wouldn't kill him, though he expected that it was a combination of the war being over, and Dumbledore being highly identifiable since his defeat of Grindelwald. Dumbledore was probably correct to think he could do more good in his current position as a national hero than throwing it away taking down Shaw. It still made something inside Erik burn cold., though. 

"That job gives him access to every school of magic in Europe. I still don't understand why, exactly, he's so interested in young wizards, but there is no doubt that he is."

"He always said he wanted to draw out my power and make me strong. What you said about wands focusing power? I could do more in my lessons today than Schmidt, I mean Shaw, ever taught me."

"That you remember," Dumbledore said, eternally kind and patient. 

"Oh."

"In any case, Shaw isn't aware that you survived at all, let along that I found you in a DP camp and we tried to track him down. I have invited Shaw here, to Hogwarts."

Erik got to his feet and promptly sat down again. His voice was meant to be steady but came out as a hoarse whisper. "Why?"

"I need access to his memories, to prove all that he did: your testimony alone is unsupported, and so much of the camp was destroyed. And then, since he's on British soil, he can be sent directly to Azkaban."

Dumbledore had told Erik about the wizard prison, the one from which no-one had ever escaped, where people died quickly rather than live on with all hope gone. It sounded familiar, and it was deeply satisfying to imagine leaving Shaw there. Erik wrapped his arms around himself. "Good. How can I help?"

"You can stay out of the way. If he recognises you, he will be immediately suspicious and my work will be made much harder. It's easy enough to cast a charm to avoid him hearing any casual mention of your name."

"I understand. May I go now?"

"Yes, of course, my dear boy. I will give you notice well before Shaw arrives, of course." Despite his sparkling blue and gold robes, Dumbledore looked far more like the powerful man who had found Erik in the camp than he did the cheerful Transfiguration professor, and Erik was glad of that. 

He went on to the library, where he'd promised to meet up with Charles, though he felt strangely as if he was floating like Nearly Headless Nick, their House ghost. It only took a few minutes to get to a busy section of the school, but no-one seemed to notice him, and he had the feeling – one he'd had many times before – that he'd died and no-one knew it. 

As soon as he got to the library, though, Charles jumped to his feet out of a bright orange reading chair and waved frantically. 

"Hello! Erik! I thought you weren't coming!" 

Erik felt a little warmer again, and his feet were definitely on the floor. "Here I am."

"Shh!" hissed the librarian, and they scurried away down an aisle of strange books. There were tables and chairs, desks and armchairs, scattered all over the library and, although there seemed to be quite a lot of students here tonight, there were plenty free. Charles sat down at one and plopped his satchel on the desk. 

"Oh, you haven't brought your things! Don't worry, I have spare." He handed Erik a piece of parchment and a quill. "And we can share the ink."

"I got started earlier – you met Shiro. He was insistent that we all do our homework straight away."

"I started too!" Charles rubbed at his temple and looked quizzically at Erik. "Are you all right?"

"Fine!" Erik snapped. "Don't ask stupid questions."

"It's not…I'm sorry. I didn't meant to poke at you."

"Well, don't then." 

"Did you hear that my sister was attacked by a ghost?"

"They attack people?"

Charles laughed. "Trust Raven to find the one that does! No, it was a ghost haunting a toilet, of all things, and the ghost tried to scare them and threw water on a girl. Raven was thrilled, but I don't think she should be attracting the interest of ghosts!"

"Our House ghost isn't aggressive. I mean, his head is hanging off, but he's very friendly."

"Our ghost sets us riddles! And that Slytherin ghost with all the blood looks dangerous, but Angel – she's the American girl, we met her on the way over here – she says he's protective of them."

"I met Angel."

"Did you hear Dumbledore found her flying over the Brooklyn Bridge? She had a terrible black eye when he brought her in with all the other Americans. And me, I suppose I count as American."

"You talk a lot."

"Does that make me more or less American? No, don't answer that."

Erik was surprised to realise that he'd relaxed as Charles babbled on, the dread of Shaw retreating to the back of his brain where it usually lurked. There was something very open about Charles – it wasn't weakness or desperation or foolishness – and while Erik didn't understand exactly why this was good, he certainly found it very calming. Charles demanded nothing in return, not appropriate House behaviour, not the bravery Dumbledore wanted, not all the contradictory things that everyone else had ever told him to do. 

"Did you know Dumbledore has a phoenix in his office?" he said, suddenly, wanting to share it with someone. 

"No! That's amazing! I wasn't aware that they ever lived alongside humans. What did it look like?"

"An ugly plucked chicken with a big black beak!"

Erik sketched out a picture on the piece of parchment Charles had given him. 

"It's staring at you even in the picture! Do you like drawing? Filius said there's optional art and music classes, and everyone's welcome."

"I don't know if I need extra classes."

"We should go along and try it! All I can draw is copies from my father's old biology textbooks, so if they want me to draw the inside of a rat, I'm set."

"All right. Our prefects said there'll be notices put up when things are happening."

A small bell rang in the library, but only the very youngest students seemed to hear it, judging from the reactions. Charles sighed. "I suppose that means we have to return to our dorms now. I suppose this homework won't take long to finish, and we have desks in the dorm."

"We don't! But there's plenty in the common room, if we're allowed to stay up for that." Erik was used to strict curfews and restricted movements, but being singled out to be sent off to bed with the eleven-year-olds still chafed. "Come on."

Along with the other first years, they filed out of the library and headed to their respective common rooms. Charles waved to Angel before meeting up with Hank McCoy and heading off up the spiral staircase; Erik went towards his dorm only to find that the staircase had turned ninety degrees and no longer went to the correct corridor. A few other Gryffindors joined him at the base of the staircase, including Suzanne and Gabrielle. 

"How do we turn it around?" Gabrielle asked one of the older students.

"It comes back when it's ready. Let's go the other way over the library, near the Charms classroom, then we can get onto that staircase there." She pointed, and the whole group had to turn and follow her the long way around, until, getting rather footsore, they made it all the way up to the Gryffindor dorm. 

"First years off to bed!" As they entered the common room, Ignatius was sending Shiro and Armando up to their dorm. 

"I want to finish my homework first," Erik told him, looking him in the eye. He thought Ignatius was about to say something, but then he shrugged. 

"Fine. Just don't stay up too late."

Erik knew it would only take a few minutes, but he felt proud of that tiny victory. He was not a child – just a student – and he needed to remember that. 

He woke up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat but freezing cold, with resolve in his mind: there was no reason for the British authorities to arrest Shaw, because he'd done nothing wrong in Britain, as far as Erik knew. That meant that Dumbledore had a plan, some way to draw him out. If his plan failed, though, Erik needed to be ready to stop Shaw instead. He desperately wanted to kill him, but there was a part of his brain that stayed calm no matter what was happening, something which had helped him survive all this time. That part of him said that it was highly implausible that Erik, an untrained boy, would be able to kill Shaw, a very powerful wizard with decades of practice behind him. If there was a way, he should try to find it, but the higher priority had to be making certain that Shaw would be taken away to Azkaban. 

Erik lay down again, pulling up the covers that he had kicked away. All of his fellow students were at risk, too, but he couldn't tell them: one of them would be sure to blab, and that would ruin Dumbledore's plans and any hope of putting Shaw where he belonged. Erik would have to observe them very carefully and see who would both be useful and be able to hold their tongue. He rolled on his side and evened out his breathing, tipping himself quickly into sleep. 

\--- 

Charles was thrilled to have made a friend. While he enjoyed the company of his own House very much, there was an element of competition there that he found troublesome. He suspected that all eight of the new Ravenclaws had been used to being head of their class, and it was troubling to not only realise that there were other people as smart as they were, but subjects they knew nothing about. Ravenclaw had less bonding and far more reading than Hufflepuff, according to Raven's report. Charles and Amelia had both won points for Ravenclaw yesterday, but this seemed to draw envy rather than camaraderie, an unpleasantness which Charles dearly hoped would be a short-lived phenomenon. Hank McCoy didn't seem to care about points, at least, but he was also terribly didactic in his interactions, which Charles thought was probably due to intense shyness combined with social awkwardness. He was friendly, though, and Charles liked him better than Larry Trask, whose main interest was attempting to outdo his sister Tanya. Right now, Larry was berating his Potions partner Amelia for not writing up her report in the exact format he'd found in the back of their textbook. Amelia didn't seem cowed at all – in fact she looked torn between ignoring him and slapping him – so at least Charles didn't have to worry about her. 

"Hank, do you want to come down to the library?" Charles asked him. 

"No, sorry, uh, I'm reading about jinxes now and I've got two chapters to go…"

"Don't ask me," Moira snapped. "You just want to chat all the time."

"Tessa?" 

"Last time we went to the library, you spent the whole time waiting for your Gryffindor friend to show up. I am going to the library, but not with you." She took Tanya's arm and off they went. 

Charles sighed. He wished the Sorting Hat had put him in Hufflepuff. To be honest, he was mostly worried about Raven: she'd be meeting with Professor Black this very minute, and he didn't want the Professor to be mean to her, or tell her anything nasty about metamorphmagi. According to other students, Professor Black was downright mean, and his Divination class was horribly difficult. Charles had asked Raven if she wanted him to come along, but she just laughed and told him no. An older Hufflepuff girl had picked her up after their shared Charms class and taken her away. 

"What are you so mopey for?" Moira snapped at him. 

"My sister has a meeting with Professor Black. Apparently his great-aunt was a metamorphmagus the same as Raven."

Moira didn't seem concerned in the slightest. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Here, come and help me with my chart." 

Charles hurried over to her desk, excited at the prospect of working with someone. "What kind of chart is it?"

"An inheritance chart. I'm trying to work out why some people are born wizards or witches and some people aren't."

"It must be inherited to some extent – there's not many Squibs around."

Moira showed him the chart. It was her own family tree, on which about a third of the people were marked with a W. "It gets more complicated further back, when there's people that were known as healers or wise women or just plain witches but it doesn't really give me an answer about whether they were magical in this sense."

"That is tricky. Maybe there'll be a pattern in these four generations," he gestured at the bottom of the chart. "Then you'll be able to work out more. Are there any squibs?"

"There could be? Is a child a squib if it has no magical power but only one wizard parent? What if it dies before the age of 10?"

"I wonder if we could do this with the metamorphmagi families? Maybe we could see which families Raven might come from?"

Moira smiled. "That's a very interesting plan. We could do that next?"

"Great!" 

Charles settled down to mark more people at Moira's direction, taking the upper half of the chart that Moira couldn't reach from her seat, and thought about Raven: what if she wasn't abandoned by Muggles at all, but the child of a forbidden relationship? As far as Charles could tell, wizard marriages were taken very seriously and expected to produce children: the family line was important. On the other hand, two men or two women could be married in exactly the same way, and Charles was really not sure where the children came from, in that case. 

Chava Prydeman jumped out of her seat by the window as if she'd been stung. 

"Charles Xavier!" she called. 

Charles got to his feet and hurried over. "Yes, Chava?"

"Prefect communication. Zenobia from Hufflepuff has said I should take you to their common room."

"Oh no, is Raven all right?"

"Sorry, that's all the message I received. Come on!" She hurried off out the door and down the spiral staircase, and Charles followed, as fast as he could. 

They went most of the way down the stairs, then across a small balcony and along a downward-sloping corridor full of really ugly still life paintings. Chava seemed to know where she was going, so Charles just hurried after her. He could smell dinner cooking somewhere close, and his stomach rumbled. When they got to a small door, Chava knocked on it four times, and the male Hufflepuff prefect opened it. 

"That's Charles?" he asked Chava. 

"Yes, he's in first year, too."

"Thanks – I'll send him back when Raven's okay."

"Raven's not okay?" Charles frowned, wanting to just run past the older boy and find his sister.

"She's just had a fright." He led Charles down a round, low tunnel: he had to duck, and even Charles had to consider it as the corridor became smaller. "Now, we don't show our common room to outsiders, but we do have a parlour for visitors, and that's where Raven and Zenobia are." He opened a round door set into the wall, and led Charles inside. 

There was a glimpse of a warm, wood-panelled room with a deep gold carpet, but Charles only had eyes for Raven, who was curled up against an older girl as if she had been crying. 

"Raven! What happened?"

"He wanted to take my hair!" Raven wailed, throwing her arms around Charles and burrowing her wet and snotty face into his shoulder. 

"He can't have it!" Charles was furious, and glared at the nearest authority figure, Zenobia. "Did he hurt you?"

"No…" Raven snuffled and wiped her eyes with a big white hanky. "And he didn't get my hair either. I ran away. Am I in trouble?"

Zenobia patted her arm. "No, you're definitely not in trouble. I'm going to talk to Professor Black and get this all sorted out, okay?" 

Charles sat Raven down on the couch and hugged her firmly until she stopped crying. "Raven, please tell me what happened? Do you want to go home?"

Raven shook her head fiercely, then wriggled free of Charles and blew her nose loudly into the hanky. "No! I just don't want to go and see Professor Black again. He made me tea, and he had chocolate cookies, I mean biscuits, from the kitchen, and he told me about his great-aunt. She died about 15 years ago, but he had some photos – they were really funny because she didn't quite look the same in any of them."

"But you're the same unless you're concentrating."

"Yeah, that's what I said, but he said that she was that way when she was younger, but the older she got, the more she just changed her face around for fun. So I copied her face, to show him what I did, and he said I needed to practice more if I was copying from photos."

"Everyone said he was mean."

"He said it in a helpful way. Then he said his family had had more metamorphmagi than any other family in Britain, so I was probably related to him, so he needed a lock of my hair to find out." Raven scowled ferociously. "And he had a pair of scissors out and he didn't even ask! But I remembered what Kurt used to say."

"If they have a piece of you, they have power over you?"

"Yes! So I said I would have to ask you, then he said not to worry, it would grow back, so I threw my cup of tea at him and ran away!"

Charles almost laughed at the idea of the elaborately dressed and coiffed Professor Black getting a face full of tea, but Raven's lip was quivering again, so he didn't. "You did the right thing, Raven. He might be a teacher, but he doesn't get to take your hair!"

"Knock knock!" called Zenobia, at the door. "I've spoken to Professor Black, and he understands that he frightened you, but he wants you to apologise for throwing your tea at him." The corner of Zenobia's lips were determinedly quirking upwards, and she was obviously struggling not to smile. 

Raven thought about it for a few moments. "I suppose I am sorry I threw the tea at him. I didn't want it to get on his photos. Okay! I'll apologise, if Charles comes with me."

"That's fine, probably for the best," Zenobia agreed, and escorted them out of the parlour, down the hallway. 

The Divination classroom was accessed by climbing up a ladder and through a trapdoor. It was an imposing room, round with no tables or chairs, just cushions on the floor. The walls, floor and ceiling were painted a stark white and there were no windows: the dim light seemed to come from the walls. The only other items in the room were a large silver teapot and two dozen small white teacups on a small round table standing by one of the walls. Raven slipped her hand into Charles', and he was surprised how odd it felt for her hand to be scaled when they were in the presence of other people. 

Zenobia knocked on one of the walls – peering at it, Charles could see a faint door-shaped outline – and a voice called out, "Come in, Miss Smith."

The door slid silently aside, and they all went up the small staircase to the office of Professor Black. He greeted them with a nod, his robes as immaculate as ever, and the door slid closed again. 

"Miss Darkholme. I trust you are willing to apologise?"

"Yes, sir. I'm very sorry that I threw my tea at you."

"Indeed. In return, I apologise for startling you."

"Thank you!" Raven smiled at him, shyly, and Charles kept hold of her hand. 

"You must be Raven's brother?"

"Yes, Professor. I'm Charles Xavier." 

"Please, sit down, all of you. Yes, you too, Miss Smith."

Now that Professor Black had moved, Charles could take in more of the office. Unlike the pristine classroom, the office was crowded but tidy, stuffed birds and bundles of feathers neatly placed alongside crystal balls and strings of beads; several large canisters of tea next to bottles marked "poppy capsules", "bone char" and "Spiders, dried: _Eresus cinnaberinus_ ". The furniture was of dark wood, and the chairs were just as hard as they looked, as Charles, Raven and Zenobia pulled them up to the massive wooden desk. Professor Black's chair was the same; all of them had a crest carved into the wood, but Charles could only make out the words "Toujours Pur" at the bottom. 

Professor Black steepled his fingers. "The reason I am so interested in Miss Darkholme's history is twofold: the possibility that she might be a distant relative is, of course, the first. The second is that metamorphmagi tend to manifest their abilities at birth, or during toddlerhood, and wizards who can do such things are very rare indeed. Grindelwald considered wizards who could perform wandless magic, such as metamorphmagi, to be the purest form of wizard, and resented his reliance on a wand."

"But he's in jail now." Charles felt uneasy, but he wasn't sure what relevance this had to Raven.

Professor Black laughed. "Yes, he is, but he had many followers, and many more who disagreed with his methods but accepted his overall goal: for wizards to rule directly and openly over Muggles. It disturbed him that almost a third of every generation of wizards come from Muggle families, and he believed that wizards and witches like Raven, those whose power comes early, would be the key to revealing the reason behind this."

Zenobia frowned, her cheeks turning red. "Professor, I'm sorry, but doesn't your family promote Pureblood-only marriage?"

Professor Black's mouth was a thin line. "Yes, Miss Smith, but there is a great difference between encouraging appropriate marriages and experimenting on young children."

Zenobia nodded apologetically and said no more. 

"As Miss Smith has informed you, some families such as mine – and hers – do indeed believe in keeping wizarding in the family. If Miss Darkholme proves to be a Black, no-one will dare touch her. If she is not, well, I will certainly endeavour to aid her should she be in danger, but my family name will not be invoked."

"Is that a threat?" Charles was very dubious about these stories about Grindelwald. All he'd heard about that part of the war was that Grindelwald had killed a lot of wizards who'd tried to protect Muggles or had stood against him, until eventually Professor Dumbledore had duelled him to defeat. He'd never heard anything about experimenting on children.

Professor Black stroked his forked beard. "No, Mr Xavier. My speciality, as you see, is Divination. Miss Darkholme is under threat from Grindelwald's followers, though my best efforts cannot tell me why or when. While I have considerable abilities myself, I would most likely not be able to defeat one of Grindelwald's battle-hardened thugs."

"Why do they want to hurt me?" Raven muttered, her golden eyes narrow with anger. She seemed to be taking this better than Charles was.

"Because you have powers that they do not, and they will see you as a gateway to more. I doubt you are in any danger at Hogwarts, but you will not be here forever."

"Would your family really not protect Raven if she's not related to them?"

"They would not. Perhaps if you had been in Slytherin – my son Orion is a prefect there – but you are not. Nonetheless, you have my assurance that I, personally, will protect Miss Darkholme as I would any student under my care."

"Um, is there a way to tell if I'm related without taking my hair?" 

"Yes, though it will take longer. Then again, the threat does not seem to be immediate, so I see no difficulty in that." 

Charles was surprised at Professor Black's expression – almost paternal, and not in the way that Kurt Marko had been, controlling and harsh. Instead, he seemed almost fond of Raven. Letting his thoughts lean out towards the Professor, Charles tried to feel anything negative: there was anger, definitely, but it was not directed towards Raven. He couldn't find anything more clearly; like many wizards, his thoughts were locked tidily away. A mirror on the Professor's desk flashed in Charles' eyes and broke his train of thought. 

"Raven, should we find out?"

Raven knelt up on her chair and whispered in Charles' ear. "But you're my family. If I'm related to them will you still be my family?"

Charles hugged her. "Of course I will! I would still be your brother even if you were related to a weasel and a rhinoceros."

Raven giggled, punched him in the arm with her hard fist and turned to Professor Black. "Okay! Let's do that! Do you need my help?"

"Excellent. No, not at present – a potion will need to be brewed. I will send a message to you when it is ready."

"Thank you, Professor!"

He waved his hand dismissively and Zenobia shooed Charles and Raven towards the door and down the narrow stairs. 

Zenobia took them through the classroom and into the corridor before taking a deep breath. "All right. Charles, I'm going to take Raven to the dorm now so she can clean up before dinner. You head off to your House and tell one of your prefects when you get there, okay?"

Raven looked up at Zenobia. "Am I really in danger?"

"Well, Professor Black isn't actually a Seer, but he is supposed to be very good with Divination. I'm doing my NEWT in Divination next year, and I can tell you that it's not a precise science, not like Potions or Charms. So yes, you will be in danger, but it might not be until you're forty."

Raven and Charles both giggled at that idea, and Charles gave Raven another hug before hurrying to Ravenclaw Tower to collect his satchel – he wanted to go straight on to the library after dinner, without running all the way back up here. 

Moira, Hank and Amelia were waiting for him. 

"Is Raven hurt?" Moira was genuinely worried. 

"She's fine – Professor Black frightened her but it's all sorted out now. I don't think he meant to, but he is quite scary." Charles didn't want to spread the idea of Raven being in danger all over the school: what if the danger came from people knowing that she might be valuable to Grindelwald? 

"Good." Amelia was very firm. "I've heard he's a mean old man."

"Amelia! He's a professor!" Hank was appalled, though he didn't disagree.

"All the more reason not to be mean," she replied, and the two of them began arguing, not an unfamiliar sight. Charles drew Moira aside. 

"Actually, it was a bit weird, and it's sort of to do with your inheritance project."

"Really? Professor Black heard about that?"

"Oh, no, not at all. But he told me that Grindelwald had been really interested in working out which children were wizards, and children like Raven who showed magical abilities earlier would help him. And then he'd steal them."

"Not unless he can find out how magic is inherited," Moira corrected, crossly. "Stealing children with blue eyes won't teach you where blue eyes come from. Then again…" She trailed off in thought.

Charles tried to follow her. "If he did have some way to tell, that could work."

Moira nodded. "But no-one's ever been able to invent a way. Well, that's not exactly true: Hogwarts has a magical quill that writes the names of wizards and witches as they're born, but that's old magic and no-one understands how it works, now. The only other magical school that has one is Tripoli, and theirs is even older."

"So there is some way, even if we don't know what it is! Why does it matter so much?"

Moira cast Charles a look that obviously meant she thought he was an idiot. "You really didn't get to hear much in America, did you? Grindelwald thought wizards should rule over Muggles –"

"Yes, everyone knows that."

"And by 'rule over' he meant 'enslave and kill'. He killed hundreds, maybe thousands of people. At least a hundred wizards who opposed him, too."

Charles' eyes opened very wide. "I know why this is important, then. If Grindelwald could work out where the Muggle-born wizards come from, he can kill the rest of the Muggles."

"Oh, no! Even after Professor Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, there were rumours that most of his followers had survived, and only a few of them were arrested and imprisoned. My dad said that everyone wanted to put it behind them and move on." Moira made a face. "I think that people who do things that bad should be locked up."

"Me too," Charles agreed. 

"We need to find out as much as we can about Grindelwald's followers so that we can watch out for them. Would Professor Black will help?"

Charles shifted uncomfortably. "He doesn't think much of Grindelwald. But it sounds like most of his interest in Raven is that she might be a Black and family is very important to him."

"The Blacks are rather notorious for marrying their cousins," Moira agreed. "And the funny thing is, nobody can trace their family further than the Founders anyway: there wasn't really a community in Britain before that, and no-one really kept records of who was a wizard and who wasn't. The whole idea about blood being pure is just ridiculous in light of evolution."

Filius approached and gave both of them a prod towards the door. "Moira, Charles, you're going to miss out on dinner." He continued his round of extracting Ravenclaws from their books and sending them on downstairs, and Charles joined the crowd. 

After dinner, Charles caught up with Raven. "You're feeling all right?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine! Don't worry so much, Charles."

"Do you want to come to the library? Moira and I are going to find out about Grindelwald's followers."

One of Raven's friends, Mariko, waved at her from the door. 

"No, one of the Third Years is teaching us knitting with magic! Hufflepuff is going to send five hundred scarves to refugees in Europe! And we can make the wool extra warm, and any colour!"

"Okay! Hufflepuff seems to have a lot more House activities than Ravenclaw." Charles would have quite liked to learn magical knitting, but it didn't seem to be on offer in his House.

Raven punched him gently. "Don't be sad! You've got a million books to catch up on!" She ran off to join Mariko, taking her hand and running off towards her House. Moira had already headed off to the library, so Charles went to join her.

Moira was chatting with the catalogue through its hearing trumpet. "Do you have newspapers as well? The library in Ullapool keeps all the old newspapers, but they're Muggle newspapers, of course. Well, if you have newspapers, I want to read about the followers of Grindelwald, please."

"I suppose there's not going to be much in the way of books about Grindelwald, yet," Charles said as they waited for the catalogue to spit out directions. 

"We've got a class called History of Magic later this week – maybe the professor there will tell us more?" The card popped out of the slot and Moira took it. The writing was tiny and densely packed with dates and page numbers, but at the top were directions. They followed them up a flight of stairs that were as steep as a ladder, to a balcony containing a row of large scrolls tied with ribbon. The handles of the scrolls were stamped with _The Daily Prophet_ and each was dated with a six month period. 

It took Charles and Moira's combined efforts to lift it off the shelf and onto a long desk nearby, which had a notch at one end to hold the outer staff of the scroll. Once they had rolled it out, though, it turned out to be a long ribbon of all the front pages stuck together, starting from the first of July and running to the thirty-first of December. 

"We can only see the front page? That's mostly headline!" Charles complained. 

"I don't think the catalogue card would say 'page 6' if there wasn't a page 6." Moira pursed her lips and unrolled the scroll to 20th July 1946. Charles touched the page and was surprised to find that it wasn't smooth, but the rough texture of rationed newspaper, and he could turn the page. They flicked through to page 6, where there was half a page with pictures of wizards with a short paragraph underneath each. Some of them were pictures of dead people, but many were moving around in their photos, glaring at the camera or trying to turn their faces away. Others were perfectly calm.

Moira took out a small notepad and a pencil. "I suppose what we need to work out is who isn't locked up or dead. That's Grindelwald at the top, so let's move down from there."

They started noting down names and quickly noticed something rather odd. Almost a third of the people on the page had not been convicted: they had not even been tried. Even a few of those who had been tried had not been convicted. Moira recorded the names, then she and Charles unrolled the scroll further to the next reference on the catalogue card, 10th October. Just as they did, they heard someone coming up the stairs. It wouldn't be possible to hide what they were doing in time – the scroll was just too enormous – so Moira quickly put away her notepad and they flicked forward a few days. 

Charles relaxed again when it turned out to be Erik coming up the stairs. 

"Erik! Hello! How did you find us all the way over here?"

Erik smiled. "I asked the card catalogue. Hello, Moira."

"Hi! I've been meaning to ask you: that potion you and Armando made in class this morning went bright green, but it still worked. Why?"

"You'd have to ask Professor Slughorn – as far as I could tell, we followed the instructions. Anyway, you and Hank got the house points for best potion."

Charles cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm glad to see you, Erik. Something rather alarming happened this afternoon and you have good ideas. You might be able to help us with it."

Erik was immediately alert, his wand-arm twitching slightly. "What happened? How's Raven?"

"She's fine," Moira answered. 

"Remember Professor Black, who spoke to her at the station? They had tea and talked about metamorphmagi, and he said she's in danger."

"From one of Grindelwald's followers," Moira added, "Though we have no idea how or when. Apparently – Erik, are you all right?"

Erik had turned dead white for a moment, then blood rushed into his face. "How does Professor Black know this?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. 

"He's the Divination teacher. Zenobia Smith, she's a Hufflepuff prefect, she said that he's not a Seer but he reads omens. Does that make sense to you?"

"It does to me," Moira agreed. 

Erik grabbed Charles by the arm and pulled him away from Moira, to the other end of the balcony. Charles tried to be manly about it, but Erik's grip really hurt. 

"Ow, let go of me!"

Erik didn't until they were as far away from the rather cranky-looking Moira as they could get without jumping down to the floor below. "Can you trust her?" he whispered, his voice still rough.

Charles was about to complain, but then he caught a glimpse of Erik's face: he was absolutely terrified, and no matter how hard he tried to hide it, he couldn't. "Moira? Or Raven?"

"Moira."

"She promised not to tell anyone about our investigation, and I believe her. Professor Black said that Grindelwald's allies were very interested in studying children who manifested magic early. Moira is interested in inheritance and family trees, so I requested her help working out who would want to hurt Raven and why."

"It's true, and one of Grindelwald's followers is coming here. To Hogwarts." Erik had steadied himself, but Charles could see the whites all around his eyes, as if he was about to panic at any moment. 

"We can trust Moira, and she was in Scotland during the war so she knows more about it that I do. You were in Ireland?" Charles started walking over to where Moira waited impatiently.

Erik followed. "No. I was in Germany."

"Have you sorted out your secret boy problems?" Moira snapped. She'd turned the newspaper scroll to the issue they'd been about to read before Erik interrupted them. 

"I've been told not to tell anyone about this. By Dumbledore." Erik was deadly serious, and both Moira and Charles listened intently. "You have to promise that you won't tell anyone else unless we all agree on it."

"I promise," Charles said immediately. 

Moira thought about it for a moment. "If someone's in immediate danger, can we tell Dumbledore?"

Erik nodded. "If it's really important, Dumbledore should be told."

"Then I promise."

Erik stared at the newspaper, open to the page with three men and two women being given medals by an elderly witch. He pointed to the one on the far left, a handsome older man with a broad smile. "That is Sebastian Shaw, also known as Klaus Schmidt. He's a wizard, but he worked with the Nazis so that he could get access to children in the concentration camps."

Charles had heard about camps where thousands and thousands of people had been killed, but he wasn't aware of the details – his mother had objected to having Muggle news in the house. He didn't dare ask where Erik's family was. 

"It would have to be Muggle-born children," Moira added. "Wizarding children were evacuated as soon as possible – a few were killed in skirmishes with Grindelwald's forces, but I don't think they went into camps."

Erik looked as if he wanted to draw his wand, but didn't. "They got out everyone they could, but then there were the Jewish and Gypsy children that hadn't been identified as wizards or witches yet. No-one rescued us. Dumbledore said Grindelwald watched the camps closely for Jewish wizards coming to help the Muggle Jews, and those who did were all killed." His face was entirely blank now, as if he was recounting things that happened to other people. "Everyone in the camps was very weak and sick, so most likely many children died before Shaw found them. Dumbledore said that Shaw found a few and took them to his laboratory, then eventually released them with powerful Memory Charms taking away what happened in that time. That's what he's getting the medal for in this photograph – he claimed he found them and saved them from the Muggles."

"So how does Dumbledore know what happened?" Charles asked, his stomach sinking.

"Because the last child Shaw experimented on was me. I'm not sure what he was trying to do – he saw me magically pull down a gate when they separated me from my parents, then he tried to make me release magic at his command. It didn't work very well, but he kept trying."

"But he didn't have the chance to alter your memory?"

"Dumbledore thinks he might have tried, but Shaw was in a big hurry with the camp closing down and the Russians coming – they have witches all over the place – and it wasn't very thorough. When Dumbledore found me in the DP camp later, it had pretty much unravelled." Erik shrugged. "Anyway, Dumbledore wants to make Shaw face justice but people think he's a hero. Dumbledore is luring him to Hogwarts to force the memories out of him so they can prosecute him and send him to Azkaban forever. He hasn't accepted yet, but Dumbledore is sure he will."

"It all fits together," Moira nodded. "Raven has had magical abilities from a very early age, and much stronger than most underage wizards. Most metamorphmagi belong to powerful old families such as the Blacks and Shaw wouldn't dare go near them. Raven doesn't."

Charles put a hand on Erik's arm. "What are you supposed to do when Shaw is here? Isn't he going to notice you?"

"Dumbledore said he'll cast a charm to prevent Shaw hearing my name by accident, and I'll stay out of the way."

Moira frowned. "That doesn't sound like a very good plan. If it was my plan, I'd send you away from Hogwarts to make sure you were safe. You had somewhere to live in Ireland?"

"Dumbledore sent me there to learn English and so I'd get to go to Hogwarts. I suppose I could go back if I needed to. But I'm sure that's not Dumbledore's real plan." Erik spoke quite slowly, working out his theory as he spoke. "Maybe he's going to want me to confront Shaw or something, so that Dumbledore can get the right memories out of his head. So he has to have me there when he springs his trap. Otherwise Shaw might be thinking about something else, his dinner or the weather or whatever it might be. I don't know how memory reading works, but I don't think Shaw would have experiments on the brain all the time."

"But what about Raven?" Charles was confused. "Shaw obviously wants to appear respectable – he's not just going to run in and kidnap her." 

Moira poked at her notepad uncomfortably. "There's plenty of spells that make you obey someone else. And, with Dark Magic, there's spells that make you want to obey someone else. He could easily enchant Raven to make her want to go with him."

Charles could feel Erik shudder slightly, and took his hand, just for a moment. "The thing about magic, though, is that anything short of death can be undone. If there's a spell, there's a counter-spell. We just have to find it."

"We all have Defence Against the Dark Arts tomorrow," Moira noted. "I'll ask the Professor how to research prevention and counter-spells."

"Won't she be suspicious?" Erik sounded tired. 

"I'm a Ravenclaw. We're supposed to be interested in all kinds of random things. If you wanted to know a spell, that would be suspicious."

"Gryffindors aren't stupid. Well, not necessarily."

Both Moira and Charles laughed, and Moira said, "Of course not. It's not brains that gets you Sorted into Ravenclaw: it's the kind of things you want to discover and why you want to discover them. If a Gryffindor asked a that question, I'd presume they were planning to use the spell. My parents were both Gryffindors, and you're all very pragmatic people. And Charles might be the most talkative boy in Ravenclaw and both his siblings are in Hufflepuff, but he still came straight to the library to research his problem."

"That's true," Charles agreed, feeling a little better about not being in Hufflepuff. 

"We're going to get thrown out of the library soon, so we should make a plan now." Erik pointed his wand at the newspaper, as if he was spearing Shaw with it.

Moira nodded. "Right. I'll ask about the spells in class tomorrow. Charles, you warn Raven to stay away from visitors. Should you tell her about Shaw?"

"You shouldn't. Dumbledore told me to keep this a secret, and while I trust you, I don't trust Raven."

"She's a good girl! She's very loyal and she doesn't lie." Charles protested.

"She can't keep her mouth shut. She told me all about herself within a few minutes of meeting her. And you should keep a better eye on her – you just left her with me at Kings Cross Station, and you didn't know if I was a good person or not."

Charles couldn't argue with that, but he tried anyway. "Actually, I sort of have a magical ability myself. I can sometimes see, well, not what people's thoughts but general impressions about them. My stepfather said it's a skill called Legilimency. It's not very common, and I can't do it very well, but it's what Aurors use to interrogate people. So I knew you wouldn't hurt her."

"Would you pick up the thoughts of someone who was going to hurt her?" Erik sounded very interested as he helped Moira roll up the heavy scroll. "Grindelwald never made it to the British Isles but that doesn't mean he doesn't have sympathisers here."

"If the thoughts were strong and specific enough, and if I can concentrate. Maybe I can try at breakfast tomorrow, if I can get a quiet spot?"

"We'll both look out for you, if you need to close your eyes or something." Moira promised. 

The bell for the First Years rang and they headed for the steep stairs down from the balcony, splitting up to go to their respective dorms. 

"See you in class tomorrow," Charles called to Erik as they went to their separate staircases, and Erik waved back, looking almost cheerful, if exhausted.


	5. Chapter 5

Erik woke up early the next morning, in time to see Karl Lykos creeping into the dorm in his dressing gown, and was surprised to realise that the dread of last night had mostly evaporated. He waved at Karl, who startled then waved back and went off to the bathroom. It was a very strange feeling to have allies, to be in a situation where it wasn't everyone for themselves, to be able to feel protective towards someone, to choose to share the danger. He showered and combed his hair, then went to get dressed. He hadn't been fond of the idea of wearing a uniform again, but the clothes were comfortable and warm and the right size, and the different colours were badges of honour, not shame. Besides, no matter where he went to school the odds were that he'd have to wear some kind of uniform so this was pretty good, considering.

This morning, all the First Years had the same class – Defence Against the Dark Arts – and Erik had, taking the example of the Ravenclaws, had read some of the textbook in advance. The book had been written by the previous Professor Merrythought, and edited by her daughter, the current Professor Merrythought.. It seemed to be a mix between the history of particular Dark wizards and witches and their aggressions, and practical spellwork. Erik had already been practising the most basic of the spells, _Finito Incantem_ which would end spells currently in use. He was determined to cast _Finito Incantem_ on himself at least once a day, just in case. So far he hadn't noticed any changes. 

Armando wandered over and sat down on Erik's bed. "Morning."

"Good morning. What do you want?"

Armando's eyebrows flew up. "Wow, I see you're not a morning person. You seemed really upset all yesterday, so I was going to ask if you felt better now."

"Yes, I'm fine." Erik thought for a moment. "Actually, can I ask you a question?"

"Any time!"

"Your dad was on a merchant vessel during the war – did they ever get attacked by Grindelwald's people?"

"Yeah, actually they did. Why do you want to hear about it?"

Erik lowered his voice. "Grindelwald stopped other wizards helping Jews or Gypsies. I'm trying to work out why."

"My mum was always a bit dubious about Grindelwald. She used to say that first he'd be all about wizard supremacy then who knows where it would stop! He was awfully cosy with all those Nazi bastards, that's for sure, and they'd have killed me soon as looked at me. Anyway, my dad's ship was in a convoy from the US and they encountered some weird conditions off Ireland. My dad's a pretty good weather wizard, if nothing else, so he'd get it settled down, then the waves would whip up again, but there wasn't much wind."

"So it was magic. Why?"

Armando shook his head. "It was a Muggle convoy, but there were often a few wizards riding along, helping the war effort, you know? Mostly Muggle-borns, though my dad isn't. He just happened to be working there. So anyway, these wizards come swooping down on broomsticks and kill one of the wizards on the convoy stone dead, and everyone's running around thinking they're getting strafed by Germans. They set two ships on fire, so everyone's trying to put that out or abandon ship and it's a big mess. So my dad thinks, right then, and he whistles up a nice choppy wind to knock them off their broomsticks, and one of them lands right on the deck and breaks his neck."

Erik nodded, fascinated. "Your dad sounds powerful."

"No, not at all! He's spent a lot of time at sea, though, and my mum had protection work all over his ship. So my dad and the two surviving wizards pick up the dead guy and his broomstick to hide it, and he all dissolves into sulphur and makes that Grindelwald triangle symbol on the deck. How stupid is that? The water's still choppy, so it washes away in no time and then my dad had to hide the broomstick all the way to the docks. Anyway, he got home and told us about it, and he reckoned that Grindelwald doesn't care what Muggles do, and he doesn't care what wizards do, as long as they're separate. He'd hang around wherever the Muggle war was worst and watch for wizards trying to help, so he'd see who'd oppose him and he could kill 'em."

"So the wizards trying to help Jews was irrelevant – it was more that Grindelwald would go wherever really bad things were happening to Muggles and wait for wizards who considered Muggles important to show up."

"Yeah, pretty much. He was supposed to be hanging around a lot of the big battles, too. Like a great big crow."

Erik didn't say anything, but Armando laughed, and he realised that it had been a joke. Erik had been thinking of Warsaw, and the crow he'd caught which they'd then cooked and eaten for dinner, and how much he wanted stab Shaw as he'd stabbed the crow. Erik tried to laugh too, copying Armando, but he couldn't keep that going for long. 

"Thanks," Erik said. "No-one wants to talk about Grindelwald. You'd think it was a hundred years ago, not last year."

"Maybe that's why they won't talk about it: they're glad it's over?"

"But it's not over. They only wish it was."

"Don't you?" Armando's voice was tentative.

"Wishing for things doesn't make them happen."

Erik didn't say anything more, but got dressed, grabbed his books and went out into the common room. He agreed with Armando's mother: first the authorities tried to separate different kinds of people, then they started killing them. He wouldn't be one of those people anymore. He had to harness the power he had while he could.

There were only a few people in the common room this early: several Quidditch hopefuls throwing a tiny shuttlecock around, the few coffee drinkers making their choice of beverage - there was only tea or hot milk downstairs - and Alex Summers sitting at a desk trying to write a letter. 

Erik took a secluded seat in a nook of brickwork and continued reading Hogwarts: A History. He could hear the two older girls who were throwing the shuttlecock talking, and tried to ignore them, but the conversation wormed its way into his head anyway. 

"So, that First Year, Summers, I hear that in America he was in jail."

"Really? But he's so little and cute! But surly, I suppose."

"Yeah, well, apparently he killed someone when his magic kicked in so they threw him in jail."

"So what's he doing here? Shouldn't he be at an American school? I mean, that Xavier boy and his sister and brother, at least they have ties to England."

"I heard Summers was too dangerous. If his accidental magic is strong enough to kill someone, imagine what would happen if he really tried to hurt you! Oh, watch out!" The speaker grabbed the shuttlecock, and hurled it across the room. 

"So, do you think you'll make Seeker this year?" 

They went on to talk about Quidditch, and Erik wrenched his attention away. Charles had said that he'd come over from America with several other students: Alex Summers must be one of them. Maybe Charles would know more. It could be very handy to have a deadly out-of-control wizard at hand if they had to confront Shaw. 

He turned his attention to his book, and started reading about the Founders. It seemed that Grindelwald was far from the first wizard to have the idea about purity of bloodline: even Salazar Slytherin was supposed to have had the same line of thought. Erik dug a fingernail into the book, gouging Slytherin's name out of the page. They were idiots: magic obviously wasn't about bloodlines. It was about power. 

He didn't see Charles at breakfast, but afterwards, in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, he slipped into a seat beside Charles, Moira on his other side. Raven waved to him from the far side of the classroom where she was sitting with a group of Hufflepuff and Slytherin girls. 

"Raven doesn't want to sit with you?" he asked Charles.

"I'm her brother – of course she doesn't." Charles didn't seem bothered by this, instead passing Erik a list of names. "I copied this from Moira's list – it's the supposed followers of Grindelwald who are not in prison or dead."

"Thanks."

Moira leaned over Charles. "Now we know which names to be alert for. Be careful with the Mitfords – the ones on that list were with Grindelwald but their sisters fought against him."

The name wasn't familiar to Erik, so he shrugged. "Armando said some of Grindelwald's men attacked his dad's ship during the war, targeting the wizards who were working with Muggles. One of the attackers died and his body turned into Grindelwald's symbol."

Moira brightened. "There's reports of that elsewhere, too – we grabbed some toast and spent time in the library this morning. We would have had more time if Charles wasn't such a wretched slug-a-bed."

Charles looked indignant, but before he could reply, a small, plump woman with soft grey curls swept into the room. Erik immediately sat up straight in his seat. Not all of his classmates could see it, by the way they continued to chat and move about, but she had the bearing of a combat veteran, scanning the room with a cool, calculating eye and moving swiftly to find a safe position in the room. 

"Good morning," she said, in a low voice that cut through the classroom. As she turned, surveying the students, Erik could see that one hand was encased in a heavy leather glove and moved awkwardly. "I am Professor Merrythought. Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Put your books away – from next week, I expect you to have read the relevant chapter before class. Skip straight to Chapter Two – Chapter One is a load of rubbish."

Several of the students giggled at this. Erik didn't, though he did agree with the Professor, as that chapter was all about not using magic on fellow students and pledging to only use the spells included in the textbook in a dangerous situation.

"Right. Ravenclaws, put your pens away, too. This is a practical lesson." There was a brief shuffle as they did so. 

"Come to the front of the room, all of you, then wands out!" She waved her wand and a row of paper targets appeared at the front of the room, right above her head. Each one had a student's name on it, alphabetically by surname. "Line up in front of your target!"

Erik was between Moira and Karl, and took his wand out, pleased to be doing something. 

"The jinx I'm teaching you is a very basic one, but has many applications. One name for it is the Knockback Jinx." Another target popped up in the centre of the room and Professor Merrythought jabbed her wand forward with a slight upward motion. " _Flipendo_!" 

A soft blue light flashed and the paper target shredded into pieces. 

"Will it hurt someone if we cast it on them?" It was Amahl Farouk from Slytherin, and he seemed rather interested in the prospect. 

Professor Merrythought's laugh was a short bark. "No, it's not powerful enough, even when I'm casting it. This is Defence Against the Dark Arts, Mr Farouk, and we concentrate here on two things: defensive spells and knowing your enemy." Gazing around at the students, she said, "Mr Marko – you're a big strong lad. May I borrow you for a moment, to demonstrate?"

"Sure," Cain said and plodded over to her. In a moment, her wand was pointed at his chest, jabbed forward, and with the word _Flipendo_ , Cain was knocked back a step. 

"Did that hurt, Mr Marko?"

"Uh, no." Cain sounded more surprised than anything, but the fingers of Erik's left hand were so tense around his wand that it took a touch from Moira to uncurl them. His knuckles ached. 

Professor Merrythought had sent Cain over to his place in line and was standing behind the row of students. "Wands up, please! Cast your spell when you're ready."

Erik immediately brought his wand up, trying to work on instinct, and jabbed it forward. " _Flipendo_!" 

There were flurries of shouts, the noise of ripping paper and the clatter of a toppling chair as everyone cast their Knockback Jinx, pieces of paper flying everywhere. When Fred Dukes had finally cast his jinx, Professor Merrythought held out her hand and all the paper targets flew to her in a neat stack. 

"Some very good work here, students, and some of you missing the target completely. Mr Madrox, you took down my chair, I believe. Mr Summers, you've hit Miss Yoshida's target, which is quite a feat at that angle. Does anyone have an idea how to improve your aim? Mr Lehnsherr – you've hit your target dead centre."

Erik wasn't sure what to say, but Moira was going pink as if she was about to burst in her effort to give the answer, so he spoke quickly. "Focus?"

"Correct! Five points to Gryffindor for that excellent shot. You are all either experiencing or beginning adolescence now, which is not a very comfortable time in your body. Fortunately, magic is primarily focused by the mind. Mr Lehnsherr hit his target perfectly not because he's tall or strong, but because he focused his intent."

Tanya Trask's hand was up. "Professor, why do we use wand gestures, then?"

"Let me demonstrate." Professor Merrythought stuck a fresh target to the wall and drew her wand, pointing it at the floor. " _Aresto Visio!_ _Flipendo_!"

The flash of pale blue was immensely slowed so everyone could watch its path across the room. It arced up from the professor's wand straight to the target, ripping a hole in the flimsy paper. 

"As you see, you don't necessarily need to point the wand to hit your target, but pointing is very helpful for your focus. The movements we teach are those that wizards and witches of the past have studied and found the most useful for releasing or shaping magical energy. If you have enough focus and power, you don't need to speak; a very few wizards don't even need a wand for basic spells. I strongly recommend that beginning wizards learn the most appropriate gestures and the right word: if nothing else, it will be on the test."

Tanya Trask nodded eagerly. The Professor gestured and more paper targets floated into view. 

"Now, I want to see at least three hits by each of you. Stay in line for safety, and cast your spell whenever you're ready."

Erik raised his wand. Professor Merrythought was right: it did help him focus his energy, and shape exactly what he was trying to do with it. Even casting such a minor spell, he felt more powerful than he had ripping steel tables apart and crushing helmets. This didn't tire him at all, and he could control the power with confidence and concentration. Those he was not lacking. 

The classroom was a chaotic mess of paper and shouts and blue-tinged light for the next hour, as Professor Merrythought went from student to student assisting them with their technique and focus. Erik listened carefully as she encouraged Moira to focus on only one thing at a time, though her only words for him were to try to use smaller gestures to see how well that worked. By the end of the class, some of the students were exhausted – particularly Alex Summers, making Erik doubt his dangerous reputation – but others seemed full of energy. 

He walked on to lunch with Charles and Moira, both of whom seemed exhilarated by the lesson. 

"You were great, Erik!" Charles was grinning widely. "You hit the target every time!"

"You kept changing your mind and thinking about other things, I saw you," Erik replied, but Charles only laughed. 

Moira pulled them close together before they reached the Great Hall. "Listen, I might have learned something else. I was reading about that ghost, Myrtle, who lives in the girls' toilets…"

"There's a ghost in the toilets?" Erik was incredulous. "Is it dangerous?"

"Not really, she's just a Ravenclaw student. All she did was splash water and fly around. Anyway, she only died a few years ago. And guess what? That year there were four other students who were attacked, all Muggle-born. The rest survived, though."

"Do you think Grindelwald had an agent inside the school?" Charles gasped. 

Moira made a dubious face. "Even if he did, they might not still be here."

"We have to find out. If someone's going to help Shaw get hold of Raven and we don't know who they are, that's a major problem."

Charles frowned and patted Erik's arm. "Not to mention, Dumbledore hasn't cast that charm yet, so they can report to Shaw that you're here."

Moira nodded vigorously. 

Erik listened to them, but he had nothing to say. The confidence and strength he'd felt a mere ten minutes ago seemed very distant now; everyone was too close to him and too loud and all pouring forward in the same direction like they were being driven. He quickly ducked down a side corridor and Moira and Charles detoured with him.

"Are you all right?" Charles asked, with concern rather than pity. 

"Sit down, put your head between your knees," Moira snapped, forcing Erik to sit down on a bench. "You need to get blood flow back to your head."

Erik did as she said, although he didn't feel any better bent forward, unable to see what was going on. 

Charles and Moira sat either side of him. 

"You know," Charles said after a moment, "There's lots of people we can eliminate, even if we're assuming Grindelwald's contact is still here, and that he or she is in touch with Shaw."

Erik could feel Moira nodding, as she rubbed a circle on his back. "Yes, that's true. It was three years ago, so anyone in Third Year or lower now couldn't be involved. They wouldn't have been here."

"What about Professors? Professor Merrythought didn't teach here then – her mother did. And Professor Shomron from Astronomy, he wasn't here either."

"It wouldn't be him," Erik managed to say. "It won't be anyone Jewish. Or Chinese, or Black. Grindelwald's people worked with the Nazis."

Charles crouched down beside Erik. "You're looking a bit better. Good. Hey, Moira, maybe you could ask the ghost what happened? Even if she doesn't know who killed her, she might remember something that helps us."

"The details aren't in _Hogwarts: A History_ and that's supposed to update automatically," Moira agreed. "Do you mind if I take Raven with me? She seemed to like Raven and I, uh, I yelled at Myrtle. A lot."

"As long as you don't have to say anything about our plans and Shaw, you should be fine?" Charles sounded uncertain.

Erik shook his head, his nausea receding. "Charles, it's Moira. You're the one who has trouble keeping his mouth shut, not her!"

Charles laughed, and together with Moira, helped Erik up. He didn't really need it, although he still felt a bit shaky and dreadfully hungry, but he let them anyway. 

Moira dusted off her skirt where it had got dusty on the bench. "Right, let's go and get some food into you."

Erik glanced at each of them, but neither of them seemed angry or disgusted, only concerned for him. This was Hogwarts, he reminded himself. There was plenty of everything, and he was not making them weak. 

\--- 

Moira finished off her bowl of soup, wiped the bowl clean with the remains of her bread roll and went over to the Hufflepuff table to find Raven. She was glad that Charles and Erik hadn't insisted on coming along: it would be very strange to take them to a girls' toilet. She was rather glad that Raven would be with her, though. She wasn't scared of the ghost, really, she was uncomfortable making someone who had died horribly talk about her death. Also, she would rather not be splashed with toilet water again. Myrtle the ghost had at least been interested in talking to Raven – why else would she have followed her from toilet to toilet wailing her name? – so Moira would have to use that to their advantage. 

"Raven! Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Raven chewed and swallowed her mouthful of sandwich and turned around on her bench. "Sure!"

Moira glared at Raven's friends, Mariko and Petra. "In private!"

Raven rolled her big yellow eyes at Moira. "Let me finish my lunch first! Is this to do with my brother? He's so boring!"

"No, it's not. I'll meet you outside the main doors."

Moira waited impatiently, but Raven must have been impatient with the secrecy, too, because she only took a minute or two to hurry out, brushing crumbs from her jumper. As soon as Moira started walking towards the corridor that led to the greenhouse, Raven worked out where they were going.

"We're going to see Myrtle the ghost! Why?"

"Because Myrtle was murdered, and I can't find information about it in the books. Don't you think that's strange?"

Raven kept walking alongside Moira, but shook her head. "It wasn't very long ago. Maybe it was only in newspapers?" 

"No, my book magically updates itself. It has all the House Cup and Quidditch winners – surely it should include a murder!"

Raven changed into a considerably less transparent simulacrum of the ghost. "She's not much older than us. It's really sad."

"Don't do that, Raven, I don't want her to think you're teasing her."

"Oh! Good point!" Raven shifted to her blue self and gave Moira a sideways glance. "Do you think the person who killed her is the one who's a danger to me? Does Charles think that?"

"I think it's possible," Moira told her, cursing Raven's inquisitiveness. "We should find out what happened so we can rule it out."

They had arrived at the bathroom door, and Moira pushed it open with only slight hesitation. 

"Myrtle, are you there? It's Moira and Raven, come to talk to you."

With a high-pitched wailing sound, Myrtle came flying out of one of the cubicles, zooming around near the ceiling. "Nobody cares about me!"

"Of course we do, Myrtle," Moira said firmly. "That's why we want to find out what happened to you."

"Yeah! To find out if they got punished!" Raven added. 

Myrtle seemed to be pleased by this, because she stopped wailing and floated closer to them. "Really? You don't think it was my fault? Because that's just the kind of the thing that happens to Myrtle?"

"That's a terrible thing to say! Who'd say that?" Raven seemed oblivious to the fact that some of the older girls had said exactly that to her a few days ago.

"Olive Hornby, that's who! Ooh, she was sorry she teased me when I turned up at the Yule Ball and left slime all over her dress!"

Moira thought for a moment – there was a sixth year in her House name Olive, a tall sulky girl. She'd be the right age to have shared a dorm with Myrtle. "Oh, her. She always looks as if she's smelling something bad."

Myrtle giggled. "Well, I did put a dead fish in her bed once. Someone flushed their goldfish down the toilet and it came right down to me!"

She and Raven seemed to share a sense of humour because they both howled laughing at that. 

Moira glanced at the watch she'd got for her last birthday. Lunchtime was nearly over. "But Olive Hornby didn't kill you, did she? I'd be pretty worried if they let the killer stay at the school!"

"Oooh, but they did!" Myrtle floated closer and both Moira and Raven shivered with the damp chill of her presence. "They said it was all an accident, but I don't call opening the Chamber of Secrets an accident! And releasing dangerous spiders!"

"You were killed by a spider?" Raven sounded terribly upset for her. 

"I don't really remember that part, but that's what everyone said. A stupid Gryffindor boy had been hiding an acromantula in the school and it petrified four people and killed me. And then they made him assistant groundskeeper!" Myrtle wailed again and flew up to the ceiling. "And nobody even cares!" With a loud splash, she plummeted into a toilet and was gone. 

Moira took Raven's hand and hurried out. 

"It was Mr Hagrid?" Raven sounded enthralled. "We saw him when we got here on the train! They didn't tell us he was a murderer, even accidentally!"

Moira frowned. "It seems strange to keep him here if he's dangerous to people. Maybe it really was an accident and all he did was bring in the acromantula. Or it tricked him – they're supposed to be intelligent."

"But Mr Hagrid looked nice!"

"It doesn't mean he couldn't be tricked!" Moira gave Raven a little push off towards the Potions classroom – the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins had their second lesson of the week while the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws would be at Transfiguration. Actually, Moira was rather hoping that Mr Hagrid was a brutal murderer, because then they'd have to worry that intelligent spiders were working for Grindelwald, and that was the last thing they needed. Still, most creatures were entirely uninterested in human affairs: even when Grindelwald had sent various creatures into the cities to attempt to spread fear, they'd mostly been interested in having lots of people to eat. Moira's mother had been part of a group capturing an African Tebo on the loose in Glasgow – its tendency to turn invisible was as useful in the streets as in the jungle – and that creature certainly had no idea why it was there, only that it needed to kill and eat many people to survive the cold. 

Hurrying off to join the students heading for the Transfiguration class, Moira hoped that Erik was feeling better. He was such a strange boy and she could never predict what he was going to do next. Still, she thought he was trustworthy, one of those people who will tell you nothing rather than lie. And he obviously thought the same of her, since he told her and Charles so much about his past. 

She made it to class well on time and dropped into a seat next to Charles, who had taken her satchel to class for her. Erik was on his other side.

"Oof! Well, we talked to Myrtle. She says that Mr Hagrid, you've met him, the assistant groundskeeper, he brought an acromantula into the castle and it paralysed some students then killed Myrtle."

"That doesn't make any sense," Erik snapped. "Acromantulas are poisonous, but they leave great big bite marks. And they don't attack you for no reason, they attack you and eat you."

Charles looked more alarmed, rather than less. "You're saying it couldn't have been an acromantula because it would have eaten its victim? How big are these things?"

"The couple I stayed with in Ireland used to hunt magically-created beasts for a living, when they were younger. They said most acromantulas are about the size of a car, but they can get much bigger."

"What if it was a baby one?" Moira wasn't scared of spiders usually, but she was quite prepared to be cautious about anything likely to eat her.

"No poison – they don't develop it until they're mature. And usually they live in nests of thirty or more spiders."

"Don't say nests!" Charles shuddered. "Maybe we should talk to Mr Hagrid and ask him?"

"You don't think he'll attack us?" Erik asked, and Moira almost laughed before realising he was entirely serious.

"I don't think they would have let him stay if he liked to attack people," Moira had to whisper, as Dumbledore was entering the room and everyone was quietening down. 

The lesson was more practice of integral transformation, this time separating ink from water. Erik technically succeeded by making the water vanish, leaving the ink behind in a cracked glass, much to his surprise. It was Karl Lykos who was most successful, carefully removing a small quantity of the ink over and over until it was all in the second glass. He nearly vanished under his seat when he was awarded House points, despite the encouragement of Armando and Suzanne. 

After class, Moira poked Charles in the ribs. "You should go and talk to Mr Hagrid."

"Why me?" Charles whined. 

"You and Erik. He's a Gryffindor so they should get along perfectly. And you can be there so he'll have to kill you both to get away with it."

"That's not comforting!"

Erik pulled him along by the arm. "Don't worry, Moira, I'll return him to the Ravenclaw dorm in one piece. Are you coming too?"

"No, I'm trying to get on the chess team and they've got a meeting this afternoon."

"But I want to be on the chess team!" Charles was definitely pouting now.

"Do you want me to be eaten by a giant spider?" Erik asked, pointedly.

"Well, no…and I'm pretty rusty with chess. No-one would play me."

"There you go." Moira dusted off her hands. "You can teach Erik when you get back."

"I can play, regular chess anyway," Erik protested. 

"It's pretty much the same!" Charles was off and running on one of his long and drawn-out explanations, and Erik dragged him safely outside. 

Moira smirked and ran off for the Ravenclaw common room. There were only two spots on the team for First Years, and one was going to be hers, even if it did mean Charles and Erik being horribly murdered and eaten by spiders. Well. Maybe she'd go to rescue them when the meeting was over. 

\--- 

Erik pulled Charles right through the castle and out the door that led to the greenhouse before he finished explaining the implications of the violent displays of the pieces in chess, when played wizard-style. Charles thought Erik would really enjoy the game, once he started playing. 

"I don't see what it adds to the game," Erik muttered.

"Oh, not much to start with, but then the pieces develop their own personalities! It makes it more of a little battle than mathematics – pieces will betray each other and make alliances and it's a lot of fun. But you have to warm the board up, first. There's even famous sets used for tournaments!" Charles and his father had been planning to go to one in Antwerp, before the war started and made travel to the continent impossible.

"Where do you think Mr Hagrid is right now?" Erik asked, and Charles skidded to a verbal halt, realising that they were outside. 

"Uh, I don't know? We could go and ask someone."

"No, definitely not." Erik was firm on this point. "We can't give ourselves away. One thing that I've noticed about wizards that's just the same everyone else: they don't trust anyone not the same as they are, not even people from other countries. And Mr Hagrid is what, ten feet tall?"

"Probably part-giant," Charles agreed. "Or even if it was a growth potion mix-up or a spell gone wrong or something, that's what people are going to say."

"Giants have babies with wizards?" Erik shook his head. "Never mind. Of course they do.. Anyway, what I mean is that if I was going to pin a crime on somebody at Hogwarts, I'd pick the person who was different. I don't know about the spiders, though." 

Charles was starting to feel most alarmed by Erik's plan. "Are we going to walk up and ask him, hello sir, are you a murderer?"

"I don't think that's a very good way to get information from someone, do you? There, he's over near the pumpkin patch."

Indeed, Hagrid was shovelling a big pile of manure into careful rows along the pumpkin vines. Green pumpkins about the size of Erik's head were nestled into the twirls and loops of vine, and Hagrid was careful not to damage them with his shovel. In the distance, the Forbidden Forest loomed dark and tangled. 

Erik wasted no time. He strode down the hill to the pumpkin patch, Charles scurrying behind him, and waved to Hagrid, who waved back. Charles wasn't sure what to do – he'd never spoken to a suspected murderer before – but he supposed Erik had probably been around a lot of murderers and would know what to do. Mr Hagrid wouldn't have a wand, but Charles wasn't silly enough to think that that was sufficient protection.

"Hello, lads!" Hagrid said, leaning on his shovel. "You're a bit early if you're after pumpkins!"

"I wanted to ask you a question, actually." Erik replied. "I'm Erik, this is Charles."

"Oh, right, right – you're the wee lad Dumbledore took over to Ireland."

Erik spluttered as if he was about to protest this description, but with Hagrid towering over him, it was too ridiculous to argue. "Yes. Listen, if you were responsible for that girl dying three years ago, why are you still working here?"

Hagrid turned bright red beneath his patchy beard. Charles took a step back, and even Erik looked alarmed. 

Erik held his ground, though. "I don't think they'd have let you stay here if you really did kill someone, so what happened?"

Hagrid leaned in close. "I'm not saying you're right or wrong, mind, but you trust Dumbledore and he'll take care of you. He knows what goes on around here."

"Would he put students in danger?"

Laughing loudly, Hagrid slapped Erik on the shoulder, almost knocking him down. "Never! He's the one watching out for the students, more than anyone. That Headmaster Dippet doesn't see a ruddy thing that goes on around here. Who's the war hero? Dumbledore. No, lad, you stick with Dumbledore and you'll be fine."

Charles hadn't had much luck trying to understand wizards' minds, but Hagrid's sincerity was clear as day. He was one of those people who made no difference between his thoughts and his speech. 

Charles spoke up. "What about the spiders?"

Hagrid shuffled one enormous foot. "Well, er, that might have been a bit of a mistake on my part, but I got hold of an acromantula egg, and the little fella hatched out, and, well, I couldn't leave him to starve!"

"No, of course not," Charles said, with a perfectly straight face. 

"So when they needed a scapegoat, there I was. But, like I said, Dumbledore knew it wasn't me, so he sorted out a job and here I am."

"Thank you for clearing that up," Erik told him.

Charles hurried forward. "I'm really sorry that happened to you. Did they ever work out who was actually responsible?"

"Nope, no idea. All I know is that every last one of the kids was a Muggle-born." He surveyed both Erik and Charles, assessing them, and lowered his voice. "I told Dumbledore it might be one the creatures Grindelwald stole from their homes and scattered about, poor things. There's lots of beasts that are smart enough to follow instructions and can petrify their victims, so I'm hoping that as soon as Grindelwald went down, it scarpered off home."

"The petrifying stopped, then?" Erik watched him intently. Charles was more focused on Hagrid calling the beasts "poor things". 

Hagrid nodded. "Not one problem since."

"Thank you." Erik stuck out a hand and Hagrid shook it. "If there were any more problems of that kind, could I ask you about them?"

"Course you can!" He shook hands with Charles as well, who was feeling much better now that he was sure Hagrid wasn't a murderer, and shooed them off towards the castle. "Off you go, then, I've got work to do."

Charles and Erik trudged up the grassy hill. Erik looked quite thoughtful. 

"He's telling the truth – he wouldn't kill anyone, not even a horrible giant spider," Charles said.

"I agree. But it means that Grindelwald might have had agents in the school before, and Dumbledore never figured out who. Well, if he couldn't find them, there's no way we will."

"We might if they're a student!" Charles protested, but Erik cut him off.

"Maybe if we'd been here a few years, but we haven't. And most likely they were an older student, who would have now left, or a teacher anyway. You can trust children to spy on each other, but not with complicated undercover missions. Children worry about their parents and their home and having enough food, not politics." Erik sounded quite firm on the matter, so Charles thought he'd better not argue, even though he himself worried about politics quite a lot. 

Moira walked down from the castle to meet them. "Well, I successfully made it onto the chess team, so I came to check that you weren't dead."

"Thanks for having such confidence in us," Erik told her, but Moira didn't seem troubled. 

"You're welcome. Now, tell me what happened."

They all walked back to the castle, comparing information as they went, and Charles smiled. Even with the worry about the impending danger to Raven, he was truly happy to be here, with his friends, working together. Surely they could face anything that came their way?

\--- 

By the time the pumpkins had ripened for Halloween, there were more students in their group. Erik had advised that they tell Armando, who knew more about the battles and tactics of the war than any of them and Armando had immediately agreed to help. He'd brought along Alex and Erik's constant, quiet interrogations revealed nothing more about the American boy than what they already knew. Alex's taciturn nature and stubbornness were a match for Erik's poking and prying. 

The last two members of the group had been a surprise. Angel Salvadore had walked up to Erik and Charles one afternoon as they worked in the library.

"What's going on? I know it's something to do with Raven and you have to tell me what it is."

Charles had opened his mouth to deny everything, but Erik had leaned forward and stared her in the eye. 

"Why do you care?" he snapped.

She didn't lower her gaze. "Raven's my friend. And because I know what kind of things people like to do to little girls because they can get away with it. And why aren't you telling her?"

Charles glanced from Erik to Angel, seeing some kind of conversation happening that he didn't understand, and Erik abruptly nodded. 

"Okay. The only reason we haven't told Raven much about it is that she talks. If the information we have gets out, I might not be able to find out more."

"From Dumbledore? Okay, I get it. You're going to tell her if you find out the danger, aren't you?" It sounded more of a command than a question, and Charles wasn't surprised that Erik nodded.

Charles didn't know what had just happened, but if Erik was ready to trust Angel, Charles was happy to go along with it. He might have regretted that every time she was rude to him and Erik found it funny, though. 

The last person in their group was a complete accident. They'd all been learning to fly on broomsticks – Charles and Moira weren't too bad at it, Erik was quite competent, Angel was fantastic – and the older students of each House were giving students extra practice on the weekends. The Hufflepuffs were the ones flying today, so Charles and his friends from the other houses had carried a vast amount of food up to an empty classroom most of the way up the Astronomy Tower. Erik and Moira insisted that they keep up spellcasting practice, even if they had admitted that there probably wasn't much they could do against an adult wizard.

Armando was explaining to Charles why they couldn't to go all the way to the top of the Tower – it was a notorious make-out spot for older students – when Moira and Angel yelled,

"Look out!" 

Sean Cassidy came flying through the open window on his broom, performed an amazing half-twist to miss hitting Alex, and crashed in a heap on the floor, right on top of their list of Grindelwald associates and their abilities. Everyone held their breath for a moment, then Sean rolled to his feet and grinned.

"Ta-da! Hey, what are you doing here? And why does that paper say Grindelwald?"

Charles desperately hushed him, but the others had already heard.

Erik strode over, his face blank and cold, and grabbed Sean's arm so hard that Sean's face crumpled up as if he was about to cry. 

"If you tell anyone about this, I will murder you and bury you where you won't be found, do you understand?"

"Y-yes!" Sean whimpered, his freckles standing out like marks on a map.

"Good." Erik shoved him towards the window, and Sean cast around desperately. 

"Stop it, Erik." Charles got between them and the window, and Armando got hold of Sean's other arm. 

"Come on, man, let him go," Armando didn't seem to be having any impact on Erik's icy fury. 

Charles put his hand on Erik's where his fingers were bruising Sean's pale arm and started to pull his fingers off. "Let go. Sean isn't going to tell anyone. Threatening him is no way to conduct ourselves."

"He knows what will happen if he talks." Erik was letting Charles move his hand, though.

"Sean, once the flying lesson is over, why don't you come up here and have something to eat?" Charles was fairly sure that Erik wouldn't kill someone over lunch. "We can explain what's going on, and with flying skills like that, maybe you can help?"

"Or take my head off next time," Alex grouched. 

Sean looked around, still shaken, but then he spotted their stash of food. "Sure, save me one of those cream buns and I'm in!" 

Moira handed him his broom, with a hard glare at Erik, and Sean climbed out the window again. "See you soon!" 

He flew back down to his group, and Charles realised he was still holding Erik's hand. Erik had been gripping Sean's arm and now Charles' hand so hard that all the blood had gone out of his fingers. He was staring down as if he didn't understand what to do next, so Charles led him away from the window to where they'd laid out their feast. 

"Have something to eat, then we should practice more," Charles said, putting his other hand over Erik's to try to release his death-grip. 

"Okay. Do you really think we can trust him?"

"I told you before, I can feel things about people sometimes. Sean is very honest – if he says he won't tell, he won't."

Erik seemed to find that acceptable and sat down to pour them both some lemonade. Charles turned around to find everyone else watching Erik carefully, as if he was about to grab them in the same way; Angel was close to the door, and the only one who had her hand on her wand. 

Charles took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Come on, we'd better get some practice in if we want to look good in front of Sean. Moira, are you still after revenge for me beating you at chess?"

"That game isn't over yet!" Moira said indignantly, and drew her wand. "Let's go!"

The tension broke and everyone except Angel – who did take her hand off her wand, at least – relaxed and moved aside so they could watch the duel safely. It had been Armando who had suggested this as a way of practising for real danger, bringing an excellent book called "Great Duels of the Last Century, and Spells to Win Your Own." Most of the spells were far too complex, but a few of the jinxes had become favourites. 

" _Claudisi_!" Moira yelled, making Charles stumble, but the weeks of practice meant that he managed to cast his spell anyway. 

" _Flipendo_!" Unfortunately, Moira's stumbling jinx had worked well enough for Charles to completely miss her and bump Armando instead. 

Moira closed in, " _Expelliarmus_!" 

Charles dove to one side and her spell missed him entirely, but Moira was fast. 

" _Expelliarmus!_ " she tried again, and Charles' wand leapt from his hand to clatter on the floor. 

Everyone clapped, and Alex yelled, "That's Moira 7, Charles 4!"

Charles laughed and they shook hands, and Angel stepped up to take on Moira next. They had to be a little more careful if Angel, Alex or Erik were the ones duelling – those three had a tendency to stop using spells and attack with fists and feet if they got riled up. Armando had once had to go to the infirmary when Alex struck him on the elbow with his wand and made his arm numb. Erik claimed that it was a good thing that they'd fight with anything to hand, but Charles had pointed out that while this might be true most of the time, it certainly wasn't true if they happened to be fighting a powerful wizard who would throw them across the room before they ever got close. 

Just as Angel cast an Itching Hex on Moira, catching Alex at the edge of it, there was a commotion outside the classroom door. Erik, Armando and Angel were there in a moment, throwing the door open to see what was going on. On the stairs was Sean Cassidy, trying to wrestle the much taller Hank McCoy towards the door, while Hank was all over Sean trying to pry his way free. 

"He was listening at the door!" Sean called out. "I came up to get my cream bun and saw him here!" 

"What are you doing?" Erik yelled at Hank, who immediately froze. "Were you at the door all this time?"

Armando and Angel helped Sean bring Hank into the classroom, where he readjusted his thick glasses and blinked in bemusement. 

"I wanted to see where you were all going." He held up a newspaper cutting, which Erik snatched from him. 

"WAR HERO VISITS DEPT OF GAMES," Erik read from the headline and held it out to show everyone else. Underneath was a picture of Shaw, standing in the Ministry foyer and smiling, a small, pretty blonde girl beside him. "How did you find out about Shaw?"

"Moira and Charles always seemed to be doing a lot of research and I thought they might know what's going to be on the end-of-term tests."

Moira glared at him. "So you used the library catalogue to find out what we'd been reading, did you?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to spy! I really did think it was to do with our studies, but then it wasn't, and I kept reading."

"And listening at doors," Erik spat, and Charles thought for a moment that he was going to kick Hank. 

Sean shrugged. "He was crouching there and he tried to run when he saw me, so I thought I'd better grab him."

"But I can help you!" Hank pleaded. "I found a research paper that Shaw wrote, before the war."

Erik loomed over him. "You know an awful lot about Shaw, don't you?"

"Only because I did my research, if there's something else you're insinuating! He's some kind of Nazi – he uses research as a cover for torturing and killing people. I would never, ever work with someone like that." Hank had stood up to his full height – taller than Erik – bristling and indignant at the accusation. 

"He's telling the truth," Charles told them, calmly. "Whatever he read about Shaw, he finds it revolting."

"Yes, it is." Hank's voice was quieter now. "He gathered accounts of children who produced accidental magic when they were scared, in danger or hurt, and theorised that this could be used to produce more powerful wizards."

"By hurting children?" Moira asked. "That's what you mean, isn't it."

"Yes, that's what it was about. He was testing whether early, powerful production of magic made stronger wizards." Hank had turned away from Erik slightly, explaining to his fellow Ravenclaws, and was totally taken by surprise when Erik punched him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. 

"Don't spy on us. Got it?"

Hank touched his jaw, looking as if he was about to cry, and nodded. Charles and Armando hurried to his side and helped him up. 

Erik watched from a few steps away. "Fine. Then you can stay. You found things we didn't. Thanks."

Moira glared at Erik, but didn't say anything, and, after a few moments of quiet, Armando said, "Maybe some lunch now? We've got plenty."

"Cream bun, please!" Sean called out, and Angel giggled, the tension suddenly broken. 

They put out all the food on a picnic blanket, sitting on cushions and folded blankets themselves, and Charles, Erik and Armando got the newcomers caught up on what they were doing and why. Moira was quiet, and Charles saw that she was watching Erik, a pensive expression on her face. 

"Are you all right?" he asked her when the others had returned to duelling, and Moira and Charles were tasked with finding more useful jinxes in the Great Duels book. 

"Just thinking: what are we going to do with Shaw if he does try something? I mean, it could be our word against his, or even Raven's word against his. He's an adult. An adult who uses Memory Charms."

"Dumbledore will believe us," Charles said, confident in that. "All we'll have to do is get the word to Dumbledore."

Moira nodded, but she didn't seem particularly comforted. 

\--- 

"I don't want to hide when Shaw is here," Erik told Dumbledore. He'd been called to Dumbledore's office to, as he'd expected, break the news that Shaw was on his way to the school. 

"My dear Erik, if he sees you he will close his mind up tight."

"Disguise me, then. I can't be sitting up in the dorm waiting for him to be gone. It sounds like a prison."

Dumbledore stroked at his beard thoughtfully. Erik had a sudden urge to lean over the desk and pull the long gingery silver beard, but that would be ridiculous. 

Dumbledore grinned at him, as if he knew exactly what Erik was thinking, and stood up. He led Erik over to a large bowl on a stone stand; Fawkes the baby phoenix watched them from his perch and groomed his beautiful, if still slightly fluffy, feathers. 

"This is a pensieve: a rare magical device that allows one to view thoughts."

"Whose thoughts?"

"Your own, or those of another. It was created to help review complex memories and decisions, but it has also been used in criminal trials when Veritaserum is unreliable."

Erik frowned. "Can anyone view anyone's memories?" He had an image of Dumbledore calmly peering into the top of Erik's opened skull.

"Oh no, no, absolutely not. It's not a mind-reading device. You must extract the memories from your mind and put them in the Pensieve. They're not often used in courts because you see primarily the perspective of the person whose memories they are: in most cases, people commit crimes in hot blood, and living those memories can make the Wizengamot – the Council of Wizards – more sympathetic."

"Not Shaw's memories, though. He's never done anything in hot blood," Erik muttered. 

"Precisely. I am going to ask you to attend my office the day after tomorrow, in the evening, so that when I have encouraged Shaw to share his memories, you can influence him towards memories more useful to us."

Erik walked all around the metal bowl on the stone pedestal. It seemed quite ordinary except for the grey mist curling around the inside. "Won't Shaw be ready for that?"

"Shaw, like most Wizards, has never used a Pensieve. He thinks that what he remembers he controls, and he is sadly mistaken."

Erik nodded. In the years of hiding before they were finally captured, he remembered going over old memories again and again, re-telling them to himself like stories. He knew how those memories worked, knew how each one started and ended, and it was a small amount of control in his life. He could remember standing in a train, pushed against his father, ignoring the dreadful stench with the memory of the gingerbread his sister would bring home from the store where she worked. When his mother died, her death crept into every memory of his past and he refused to think of that time anymore. These days he could barely remember anything before the camps, to be honest, not with the shadow of Schmidt, Shaw, looming over everything. Maybe the memory charms had affected him, only not in the way they were meant to. 

Dumbledore was right, though: Shaw would have no reason to hide his memories. He was confident of his power and control, and no matter how cautiously he acted, he was not a cautious thinker. He was an arrogant man who thought he knew everything and Erik knew that was a lie. 

Erik looked Dumbledore in the eye. "I can hide for two days. I can do that. I want my friends to remember who I am, though. And Armando and Alex can bring me food, they're in my dorm."

"Good boy. I'll send for you when I need you. I'll tweak the spell a little so that your friends remember who you are." He put his hand on Erik's shoulder and propelled him towards the door. "Remember, after lunch tomorrow, go to your dorm and stay there."

"Yes, sir." Erik let himself be hustled out the door to where Moira and Charles were waiting. He was glad that he hadn't said anything immediately upon exiting the office, because Professor Merrythought was with them. 

"Yes, I agree," she was saying to Charles. "It's very difficult to say that one wizard is Dark and another isn't, except in very obvious cases. I think of it more as a slippery slope: the more you subvert or hurt other people with magic, the easier it is to keep doing that, and you rush faster and faster towards the Dark."

"You don't think there's particular Dark spells?" Moira asked.

"Apart from the Unforgiveable Curses, there's not many – there's plenty that can be used that way, I suppose." She shook her head. "Hello, Erik. If Dumbledore's finished with you, I'll be going in. Good night."

"Good night, Professor," the three students chorused, then hurried off down the hall, away from the office. 

"Shaw's going to be here tomorrow around lunchtime. Dumbledore was really serious about me staying out of sight, so I agreed I would, if Armando and Alex can bring up food and so on. I don't want to be out of touch if the Prefects get territorial about who can be in the dorms again." They'd been having their meetings in the Astronomy Tower because the Prewett cousins who were the Gryffindor prefects had objected to them so frequently having friends from other houses in the Common Room. The Ravenclaw prefects had banned them outright – Charles had said that was because of the noise, not because of them being from other houses – and Hufflepuff and Slytherin didn't let students from other houses into their common rooms at all. 

"I'd rather have you there helping us keep an eye on Raven," Charles said, "But I suppose Dumbledore's right. It's a big risk trying to hide you in plain sight."

Moira grumbled, "I said so all along! Besides, now we've got Sean – he's in Hufflepuff and he's with Raven most of the day."

Charles put a hand on Erik's forearm, right above the tattoo, though Charles didn't know that. "Will we forget about you when Dumbledore casts the spell? I mean, I don't want to think of you sitting up there waiting for news while we can't bring it to you."

"He said you wouldn't forget."

"What if we write everything down, and make sure to keep it hidden?" Moira considered.

Charles' hand was still on Erik's arm. "I think the risk is too great," he argued. "What if we really don't know what's going on and one of us starts reading your note in class?"

"Hmmph, you're right. We'll have to rely on Dumbledore, then."

Erik shrugged. "He's never been anything but reliable so far. He didn't have to tell us about Shaw or this plan – he could have simply locked me in the dorm and said I was sick."

They'd reached the bottom of the Ravenclaw Tower stairs now, and had to split up. 

"See you tomorrow," Erik said, pulling his arm away from Charles, then awkwardly patting him on the shoulder. 

"Good night!" Charles and Moira went up the stairs and Erik was left behind. 

He turned to go to his own dormitory, walking along the hall to the portrait of the Fat Lady. 

"Password!"

"Butterbeer," Erik replied, and the painting swung open to let him into the dorm. Armando immediately came over to see what he'd learned from Dumbledore, but he brushed him aside and went over to Gabrielle Haller instead, who was reading in a corner by herself, curled up in a big armchair. 

Erik kept his voice low. "Gabrielle. Tomorrow there's a guest coming to Hogwarts, and he worked in my camp."

Gabrielle didn't look up from her book, but her fingers were holding it so tightly that her nails went white. "Is he after you?"

"Dumbledore will stop him. But until then, stay out of his way. He doesn't hate Jews, he just, he uses whoever he can. He likes children." Erik cursed himself for stumbling. He'd planned what to say, but Gabrielle's presence always tripped him up. 

"Thanks," she said, quietly, closing her book. "I'll be careful."

Erik went back to his friends, and Gabrielle headed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, her stance alert and nervous. Erik knew how she felt: it was going to be hard to hide out when every nerve was calling him to do something, anything. He wasn't naturally patient, but he'd learned how to be, and that's what he would have to do.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Charles awoke to Filius knocking on the door. 

"I'm sorry to wake you so early," he said, as the Ravenclaw boys stirred, "There's a student missing and I was wondering if any of you had seen her? It's Gabrielle Haller, a Gryffindor in your year."

"What happened?" Hank was alert, even if Charles was still too sleepy to ask the right question.

Filius shrugged. He looked extremely worried – so much so that he hadn't shaved, unusual for such a neat student – though his voice remained calm. "She went to bed last night and when her roommate woke up this morning, she was gone. We can't find her anywhere in the castle."

Another Seventh Year boy ran up to Filius and whispered something to him before dashing off again. 

"I'm sorry, there's now two Gryffindor First Years missing."

Charles and Hank exchanged a glance, sure that he was about to say Erik Lehnsherr. He did act strangely around Gabrielle Haller – he avoided her with great determination, and she avoided him.

"Karl Lykos is the other. He left the dormitory early this morning to, uh, go for a run, but he hasn't returned and now can't be located."

All three boys shook their heads, bewildered. Karl was a very quiet boy who tended to score well on class quizzes, but no-one really knew much about him. 

Filius nodded. "Well, make sure you stick with your classmates today, all right? Don't go wandering off. Just in case."

"We won't!" Hank said heartily, and both Larry and Charles shook their heads emphatically. 

"Good, good." Filius hurried out again, heading up to the next dormitory. 

Hank and Charles had to wait until Larry went to the WC before they could talk freely. 

"Do you think it's Shaw?" Hank's eyes were wide, magnified further by his glasses.

"It's a bit of a coincidence if it isn't!" Charles was getting dressed as quickly as he could, hoping to duck over to the Gryffindor dormitory before breakfast. Hank followed his lead. Unfortunately, as soon as they got to the Common Room, it was clear they weren't going anywhere. Two Seventh Years were at the door, keeping everyone inside. The Quidditch team and their most ardent supporters were complaining loudly that they were missing practice and Slytherin would defeat them for sure on the weekend. 

"Slytherin's not out practicing, either," said one of the older students sternly. "Go get changed – we'll go down to breakfast together in half-an-hour."

Charles and Hank – now joined by Moira – took seats in the farthest corner they could. 

"Shaw's not here yet!" Moira hissed at them.

"I know! Unless he showed up early – Dumbledore would only tell Erik, not us."

"Good theory!" Hank nodded seriously, though this was just as speculative as anything else. 

"I wish there was a telephone service or something between the dorms," Charles muttered. "At home we had speaking tubes."

"Oh!" Moira's face lit up. "I was thinking about it last night, and I can make one. What's something small and harmless we can carry around with us?"

"A quill?" Hank was nervously fiddling with one.

"A pocketknife," Charles offered. Everyone had one to sharpen their quills and they were easy to hide in a pocket. 

"That's smaller, it'll do." Moira jumped up and ran to the girls' dorm, pushing through crowds of complaining, hungry Ravenclaws, and returned with her ubiquitous notebook.

"Right then. People out in the Hebrides use this spell to talk to each other more than they use Floo powder. It's like a radio. _Aossala!_ " She touched her pocketknife to Charles' and repeated the charm, then Charles did the same to Hank's. 

"Got it? Whenever we see the others, we should pass this on so we can all talk in emergencies."

"Can we choose who we talk to?" Hank asked.

"No." Moira held her closed pocketknife near her mouth. "Anything you say will be heard by everyone in the chain." Her voice came out of the boys' pocketknives, tinny and soft. "Sorry, I don't know how to do it any other way."

"All right, everyone!" called one of the older students. "Time for breakfast! Try not to trample the little Firsties on the stairs!" 

Moira made a nasty face in his general direction, and Charles had to laugh despite his tension.

There were teachers and prefects everywhere as they went down to breakfast, and Charles and Moira were nearly knocked down by Professor Merrythought swooping past them up the stairs. 

"Is there anything we can do?" Charles asked Moira.

"We should talk to – oh, there's Armando and Alex. Let's ask them."

Armando was seeking them out too, and waved at them. They eventually all managed to make it out of the crush of four Houses all coming in to breakfast at once, and Sean, Hank and Angel made it to their little huddle as well. 

"Dumbledore wanted to talk to Erik," Armando said, his words falling over each other in his hurry. "We were on our way down and Dumbledore came barging through us and grabbed Erik by the arm and marched him off the other way!"

"We should have gone back, but we were being pushed along," Alex added.

"I saw Professor Dumbledore going by," Angel sounded worried. "He looked as if he was about to kill someone, he was so mad."

"Before we go searching for Erik, Moira has a useful spell for us," Charles announced, and Moira quickly explained about the pocketknives. Everyone had theirs, so she, Charles and Hank quietly passed the spell on to the others, adding them to the link. As the finished, Dumbledore and a very surly Erik entered the Great Hall. Dumbledore pushed Erik towards the Gryffindor table, and he took a seat there, though as soon as Dumbledore moved on to the head table, Erik scrambled over to sit by Armando. 

"Sit down, please!" Headmaster Dippet's voice boomed through the hall and everyone scrambled for their seats.

The Headmaster continued. "As most of you are now aware, two of our youngest students are missing. Miss Haller and Mr Lykos were last seen early this morning. Staff will continue to search for them, but in the meantime, classes will proceed as normal. All students are required to stay with their Housemates until the students are found." Dippet wiped his glasses on the checked scarf he had tucked in to the collar of his robes. "And of course, I must remind you all that jokes and japes of this nature are absolutely forbidden. Those of you who enjoy attention, please remember that when the missing students are found, they will be in a great deal of trouble."

Several of the teachers frowned at that, and both Dumbledore and Merrythought looked as if they were about to get up from their seats, but Dippet hadn't finished. 

"Finally, we are expecting a guest today from the Ministry of Games and Sports, Mr Sebastian Shaw. He will be bringing his three wards with him, and I expect you students to be very welcoming to them. Now, on with your breakfast." Dippet pulled his robes around him and left the room. 

Charles was most startled by the announcement of Shaw's companions, and it appeared that Dumbledore was, too. Charles poked Moira in the side and she slapped his hand. 

"Don't poke at me! I heard what he said."

Charles put his hand up to his mouth, pocketknife hidden in his palm. "Erik, do you know anything about, well, anything?"

Erik's answer came swiftly. "I told Gabrielle that a man from the camps would be here. I didn't realise she would run away." He sounded offended. "He wasn't even from her camp."

"Yeah, well, she did lose her whole family." Armando joined in the conversation. "At least you're aware of what you're facing. And you have friends to help. She's not really friends with anyone."

Erik made a noise that might have been irritation, acceptance or possibly chewing. Charles was always impressed by Erik's ability to eat vast amounts of food while holding a perfectly normal conversation. 

Moira asked, "So she's all right? Just hiding?"

"Yeah. And Karl goes out early every morning, so he's probably helping her."

A moment after that, Karl Lykos walked into the hall, escorted by Professor Shomron. The Gryffindor table burst into applause, which soon died down as Karl was marched right past them, up to the teachers, and away through a side door with Dumbledore. The very second the door closed, the Great Hall was alive with speculation and gossip. 

"To your classes, please!" Professor Slughorn bellowed over the noise – he certainly didn't need to magically amplify his voice – and everyone scattered for their first class. As it was Wednesday, all the first years were sharing a class: Defence Against the Dark Arts. They banded together to make their way through, Cain Marko and Fred Dukes leading the way, and eventually made it to the big classroom. 

Charles had hoped to have some time to talk to Moira, but Professor Merrythought was already there, arranging supplies on a long table. 

"Good morning, students," she said, hurriedly, and the students replied, shuffling into their seats. Karl Lykos was not among them. 

Suzanne Chan from Gryffindor put her hand up and waited for Professor Merrythought to see her. "Professor, shouldn't we be out searching for Gabrielle? We can do classes any time."

Professor Merrythought shook her head. "Suzanne, I understand you're worried about your roommate, but sending students out is a terrible idea. If Gabrielle is just hiding or has run away, it's unlikely that any of you will catch up to her. If something has happened to her, the exact same thing could happen to any of you. If you have anything particular to add – " she glanced at Erik at this point "- you should tell the Headmaster or Professor Dumbledore at once. Is there anything more you have to tell them?"

"No, Professor." Suzanne's eyes were puffy from crying and her hanky was so wet that Tanya Trask had to give her another. 

"Now, on with today's lesson. We reviewed the chapter on counter-charms earlier this week, so today we'll make one. This is an Intregity Charm: it will tell you if any spell is being cast on you, and will continue to remind you as long as the spell is active. Now, does anyone know the downside to this object? Mr Faroukh?"

"It doesn't detect spells you cast yourself."

Larry Trask waved his hand. "And it doesn't make a difference if the spell is helping or harming you!"

"Well said – five points to Slytherin and to Ravenclaw. The Integrity Charm, like most Dark Detectors, is an inelegant thing that detects far more than you would want it to detect. For example, the stone will change colour when you walk into your dormitory because of the protective charms cast over the doors. Please form a line and take one bundle each, and I will show you how to weave the charm."

Halfway through the class, Professor Dumbledore hurried in and retrieved Erik, taking him away in a flurry of robes before Charles had a chance to say goodbye. He planned to wait a few minutes before taking out his pocketknife to ask Erik what was going on, but it was Erik who spoke first. 

"Hey, is this too loud?" A hoarse whisper came from the pocketknives. 

"No, it's fine," Charles whispered. 

"Shaw's arriving early so Dumbledore sent me to the dorm. Shaw has three kids with him, the girl from the photo Hank found, and two boys."

"Will he be hurting them?" Armando asked.

"Definitely. But Shaw always makes you feel loyal to him, so they'll probably fight for him if they're around when the plan goes ahead."

Angel's voice was calm and assured. "There's more of us than them, so we can keep them away from Dumbledore's office if we have to."

"Keep an eye on them when you see them," Erik added, then everyone went silent: there was nothing more to say right now, and they couldn't risk having the pocketknives confiscated. 

Moira and Charles finished Erik's Integrity Charm for him so that he'd have something to be marked on at the end of the class, and hurried down to lunch in great excitement. Despite all that Erik had told them about how dangerous and evil Shaw was, it was thrilling that they were secretly helping Dumbledore fight him. 

Shaw was already in the Great Hall when they arrived, seated at the head table and chatting with Professor Slughorn. Shaw looked exactly like his photograph: a middle-aged man with wire-rim glasses, wearing slightly travel-worn robes, though he no longer had a moustache. Seated beside him was the girl from the photograph: a pretty, delicate, blonde girl about Charles's age, with a white fur trim on her ice-blue robes. The others that Erik had mentioned were there, too: a tall, saturnine young man with a short beard who must surely be sixteen or seventeen, and a younger boy with long brown hair and olive skin. The younger boy sat quietly, staring at the table, but the other boy and girl looked openly about the hall. The girl occasionally bestowed a smile on someone, reminding Charles of Princess Elizabeth on a tour. 

Charles took his seat and whispered to Moira, "I'm going to try to find out how they feel – not Shaw, the others. If there's one who wants to get away from him, maybe they'll help Dumbledore."

Moira frowned. "Will you be all right? It's very noisy here and you need to concentrate."

"It's important! Knowing that helps." As soon as the tureens of soup arrived to distract everyone, Charles closed his eyes and concentrated, feeling out the location of the high table. It was easier than he'd thought: all the adults were grouped there, with their powerful, shielded minds, so he just had to slide across from them until he found one that was different. He observed it carefully, then, to his shock, he felt someone look back at him. He and the new presence reached out to each other, though Charles wasn't sure if that was a friendly gesture or an attack. Their minds touched, and the other person shoved Charles away, hard. He grabbed at the other mind, determined not to be pushed out against his will, and, with a terrible noise like distant thunder, everything went black. 

\--- 

One moment Charles was sitting perfectly still, his fingers pressed to his temple, and the next he collapsed off the bench. Moira managed get an arm under him to slow his fall, ending up tangled on the ground with him. 

"Help! He's fainted!" she called out, and people rushed over. Raven shoved through the crowd to crouch by Charles' side, then Professor Merrythought was there, waving her wand over Charles' unconscious form. 

"There's no sign of a spell. Let's get him to the infirmary with the girl."

Chava Prydeman helped Moira up, getting between her and Professor Merrythought before she could ask "What girl?" Before she could try again, she saw who they meant: the girl at the high table with the fur-trimmed robes was unconscious in the arms of Groundskeeper Ogg. Professor Merrythought floated Charles' still body alongside her, and they, along with Shaw and Dumbledore, all hurried off towards the infirmary. Moira watched them go, then realised that Charles would be with Shaw and none of them would be there to protect him: Shaw might get Dumbledore's entire plan out of Charles' head, given the chance!

Moira grabbed Raven's hand. "You have to go with Charles, Raven – they'll let you in because you're family. I'll come along with you."

Raven was in tears, and let Moira pull her out the door without argument. They caught up to the teachers and the two patients just as they all entered the infirmary, greeted by Healer Yaxley. The Healer was a great big man with an intimidating beard, very much resembled the pictures of Druids in the History of Magic textbook. The First Years had been thoroughly warned that his favoured treatment for everything was a good dose of the salts, whether you had earache, were cursed bald or had a boil. Today, though, he seemed competent and quick, directing the adults carrying Charles and the girl to place them on two of the beds, and casting several spells over them. 

"Their names, please?" His voice was authoritative. 

"Charles Xavier and Emma Frost," Dumbledore supplied. 

"And have they ever met before?"

"They've both lived in America, but as far as I'm aware, they've had no contact," Dumbledore frowned and glanced over at Shaw. "Sebastian?"

"I can't speak for Emma's life before she became my ward, but they certainly haven't met in the last year." Shaw leaned over Charles in a proprietary fashion and Moira wanted to beat him away with her wand. Instead, she held Raven's hand firmly. Raven had stopped crying and had a snarl on her face instead.

"Hmm. It appears that they've worked the same spell on each other at the same moment. When the wielders are at similar levels of skill, power and intent, a backlash can sometimes ensue. Fainting is a protective response from the body – I've never known spell-lock to continue for more than a day, especially in children so young. I would expect a full recovery by tomorrow."

"I am most delighted to hear that," Professor Merrythought said, and Dumbledore, too, looked intensely relieved. Shaw, however, was staring at Charles with a renewed interest and something in his face that closely resembled greed. 

"And who are you two?" Groundskeeper Ogg, who'd carried Emma Frost, pointed a bony finger at the two girls. 

"This is Charles's sister and I'm his friend," Moira replied, in her best no-nonsense voice. If she didn't convince them that she should stay, Charles could be at the mercy of Shaw. Healer Yaxley was a strong man and must be a skilful wizard, but Shaw had something predatory about him that spoke of confidence and ferociousness. At the mention of Raven being Charles' sister, he'd turned his bland but penetrating gaze on her. Moira was glad Raven was wearing a smooth, pink skin today, with blonde hair, bearing a close resemblance to Charles: Shaw shouldn't see her blue.

"Sister, eh?" Yaxley came over to Raven. "Has anything like this happened before?"

Raven had stopped crying and was watching Shaw cautiously – she must have picked up the same idea as Moira – but responded politely to the Healer. "Yes, sir, a few times, but it was just him. We used to live near New York City, and sometimes when we went into the city he'd feel overwhelmed and faint. Not for this long. Just a normal faint."

"Thank you, Miss Xavier."

"Darkholme." At Yaxley's curious look, she explained, "I'm adopted."

Yaxley turned to his patients, as did Shaw: his interest in Raven seemed to have diminished as soon as she mentioned she was not Charles' blood relative. Moira breathed such a sigh of relief that she quickly had to turn it into a cough to disguise it.

The adults spoke amongst themselves, and Professor Dumbledore came over to Moira and Raven. "Would you two girls stay with Charles? I'm sure he would find it comforting to have someone familiar here when he wakes."

"Thank you, Professor," Raven answered. 

"Only if you can stay quiet!" Yaxley added. 

"I'll leave Emma in your capable hands, Healer," Shaw said, and he swept out of the infirmary with Dumbledore, Merrythought and the groundskeeper. As she and Raven sat by Charles's bed, Moira had a terrible urge to poke her tongue out at his retreating back, but resisted in case Yaxley threw them out. 

Her pocketknife had been buzzing ever since she left the Great Hall with Raven, and finally she had a chance to update everyone. She hesitated for a moment, since Raven was there, but thought that it probably wouldn't matter – it wasn't actually part of Erik and Dumbledore's plans and it certainly wasn't suspicious for her to find a way to talk to her friends. 

"Raven, do you mind if I tell Erik and Hank what happened? We have these to talk to each other." She showed Raven the pocketknife, and as she did, Hank's voice emerged from it.

"We need to calm down," he was saying. 

Raven giggled nervously. "That's a good idea! I'll tell you if the Healer is coming."

Moira spoke quietly into the spelled pocketknife. "Everyone, this is Moira. I'm in the infirmary with Charles and Raven's here too. The girl's name is Emma Frost and the Healer says that she and Charles will be fine. They must have cast the same spell at the same time and that can make you faint for a while."

"Charles was casting a spell?" Armando sounded puzzled. 

"No, he was doing that thing, where he can feel how a person is."

"He shouldn't have done that!" Erik's voice was louder, and angrier. "He didn't know anything about them!"

Raven leaned over to join in. "He didn't know anything about you, and that turned out all right!" 

Moira stepped in before an argument started. "Anyway, that must mean she can do it too – the Healer said it has to be the same spell. And Shaw was really interested."

"What about Raven? Was he interested in her?" Angel asked.

Raven rolled her eyes. "Does everyone have one of these except me?"

"Shush, Raven. No, he was only interested in her for a moment when he thought she was a blood sister to Charles. As soon as he knew she wasn't, he didn't care anymore."

"Well, good." Alex was as gruff as ever, but Moira could hear the relief.

"Wait, wait!" Raven gestured with Charles' limp hand, which she was holding. "Is this about Professor Black's prediction? Do you think Shaw is the one who might want to hurt me?"

Angel laughed over the link. "Yeah, Raven, you're too smart for your own good."

Erik spoke over her. "Shaw hurt me, during the War. It wasn't much of a jump to assume he might hurt you. And here he is, with three more children in tow."

Raven was about to reply, when Moira hushed her."Shh, someone's coming towards the infirmary." 

Everyone on the link went quiet and Moira dropped her pocketknife in a deep pocket of her robes.

Shaw strode into the room, his long, elegant robes swirling around him. "Healer Yaxley," he called out to the Healer at his desk at the other end of the room. "I've come to check on Miss Frost."

Yaxley nodded, and Raven quickly scrambled around to Moira's side of the bed, away from Emma Frost and Shaw. 

"Young ladies," Shaw nodded to them politely and sat down in between Emma and Charles' beds. He took both Emma's hands in his. If he wasn't genuinely concerned about her, he was doing a fairly good impression. Moira kept an eye on him, but it didn't seem that he was doing anything apart from guarding Emma, so she watched Charles as well. 

Charles had looked half-dead immediately after the spell-lock happened but colour had come back into his face and now he appeared peacefully, if deeply, asleep. He was definitely improving, for all he was very still. Something caught Moira's eye: Charles' pocket was glowing. She angled her head to draw Raven's gaze to it and Raven, who was holding Charles' hand, silently reached in and drew out the spell-detecting amulet they'd made in class, keeping it shielded in her hand so that Shaw couldn't see it. It was glowing brightly and Raven glared at Shaw so furiously that Moira was surprised the man didn't burst into flames on the spot. The skin at her hairline was flickering blue. 

Moira pressed Raven into her seat before she leapt across the bed and attacked Shaw – that would really be a give-away – and instead called out in her clearest, loudest voice. 

"Healer Yaxley! I think someone's casting a spell on Charles!" 

Shaw's pleasant mask dropped for just a moment, revealing a vast and seething anger, and Moira quailed. By the time the Healer had made it to Charles' bedside, Shaw looked mildly concerned instead. 

Yaxley waved his wand over Charles and nodded. "Now, how did you pick that up, lass?"

"We made amulets in Defence Against the Dark Arts," she told him, and Raven held it out for his inspection. 

Yaxley frowned. "I'll have to move Mr Xavier to the Dragon Pox ward." At the expression of alarm on the girls' faces, he explained, "The lesions of Dragon Pox are inflamed by the presence of active magic, so Hogwarts has an isolation room. You'll be able to observe the patient from outside the room."

He picked Charles up – this time he stirred slightly at the movement – and carried him to the far end of the Infirmary. Shaw's face turned thunderous the moment Yaxley turned away, not caring that the girls saw. 

"I don't know what your game is," Shaw hissed at them, "But your interference will be punished."

"Only if you admit you were casting a spell on my brother!" Raven snapped, and with a flip of her long blonde hair, headed to the isolation room. Moira glared at Shaw and followed, impressed by Raven's bravery. 

Shaw patted Emma's hand and walked out of the infirmary just as Yaxley returned.

"Healer, it was Mr Shaw casting the spell," Moira told him.

"I'm not about to accuse guests of such things without solid proof, and you'd do well to learn from that, lass. Now sit down by the window, here, and I'll get you both a cup of tea."

Moira couldn't argue with that – not even Raven could – and took her seat with a sigh. She could easily see Charles and there was no way Shaw could do anything to him while he was safely locked up in there. As soon as she could, she'd explain everything to the others. Perhaps they could watch in shifts. 

\--- 

Erik was furious. Charles had not only been injured, somehow, but had attracted Shaw's attention to himself. It was only a few more hours to the meeting in Dumbledore's office, though, so Erik had to hold on to the hope that Shaw would not be around to hurt Charles, but instead having his life drained away in Azkaban. 

Armando, Angel and Sean had gone to the infirmary as reinforcements for Moira and Raven. They'd been prepared to argue their way in, but Healer Yaxley had simply sat them on the long padded bench by the observation window and brought them each a strong cup of tea. Afternoon classes had been cancelled except for the students taking OWLs and NEWTs this year, as more and more of the teachers were out searching for Gabrielle Haller. Various prefects came down to check on the students in the infirmary, but even bossy Tessa Prewett seemed happy to leave them under the watchful eye of Healer Yaxley.

Hank had been sent over to the dorm he shared with Charles to watch out for Shaw sneaking into the Ravenclaw dorms to go through Charles' things, but so far his watch had been uneventful. Alex had stayed in the Gryffindor dorm as Erik's line to the outside world, bringing him lunch and keeping him company. All the students not in classes had been sent to their common rooms and only moved about Hogwarts in supervised groups, so it wasn't hard for Alex to duck in and out of the dorm. 

Dumbledore hadn't been entirely clear about the effects of the spell he cast on Erik: his friends had indeed remembered him, but other students in the dorm didn't seem to notice him at all. Shiro had walked in to get a book from his trunk and completely ignored Erik, who was sitting in plain view on his own bed. Erik wouldn't have thought much of that – he and Shiro frequently argued – except that Shiro painstakingly checked his appearance in the mirror before leaving. There was no way he would have done that in front of Erik, who often mocked his fastidiousness.

Alex and Erik were playing yet another game of rolling checkers – with frequent pauses to talk to the others who were with Charles – when Karl Lykos shuffled into the dorm. He looked as if he had been crying, and there were scratches on his face and arms. Erik nudged Alex, who glared at Erik but then realised what Erik meant. Erik wasn't meant to talk to people if he could avoid it, so that left Alex. 

"Hey, Karl. You okay?" Alex asked, in a deeply unconvincing attempt at a friendly voice. 

Karl jumped. "Yeah, sure, fine, leave me alone." 

Erik sighed. Alex was hardly the person to reassure the always-reticent Karl. He'd just have to ignore Dumbledore's instructions in the safety of the Gryffindor dorm. 

"Karl. Where's Gabrielle? I'm really worried about her."

Even more startled at Erik's sudden appearance, Karl snapped at him. "Well, you shouldn't have scared the life out of her then! This whole thing is because of you!"

"What whole thing?" Erik snapped back, trying to keep his temper under control. "I mean, is she all right? Did you help her?"

Karl sidled over to Erik, watching Alex cautiously until Alex threw his hands up and went off to the common room. 

He spoke in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "I promised not to tell the teachers. She said it wasn't safe. But I guess you can't be a Nazi. Are you hiding out in here?"

Erik seized the opportunity. "It was me that warned her. Is she somewhere safe? You don't have to tell me where." It was a surprise to Erik that he was genuinely worried about her. He hadn't really thought through his warning of the night before, only that that he couldn't let Gabrielle go unaware. 

"Yes? No? I'm not sure. Did she tell you about my curse?"

"You have a curse?"

Karl shook his head. "You're Muggle-born, aren't you? No wonder you don't know about this. I mean that there's a curse on my family. Over five hundred years ago my ancestor was cursed so that every day, the eldest male in the family turns into a great leathery bird. Over the generations, various wizards have managed to reduce the curse so that it doesn't last all day, just an hour or so. And it doesn't make you mindless and violent, now. Plus we can trigger the transformation ourselves rather than having to transform at first light, unless we leave it too late in the day. So when my dad and granddad were killed in the war…"

"It fell on you." It made sense now, Karl's early morning absences and that the prefects knew about them. "So they organised for you to go out every morning instead of turning into a giant bird in class. How did Gabrielle find out?"

"She followed me one day and saw the whole thing, but once I was in the air I spotted her watching. She said she doesn't like people having secrets." Karl made a face. "I said she should go follow you and those two Ravenclaws, then, you're always sneaking around."

"And did she?" 

"No, she said she already knew all about you. Guess she was right. So this morning, she followed me out and asked me to fly her over the Forbidden Forest so she could get out of here."

Erik clenched a fist. "You just left her there?"

"Not exactly. When we were flying out, we saw one of those big black skeleton horses bringing an open carriage up from Hogsmeade."

Erik nodded. He'd seen the skeletal horses wandering around the edge of the Forbidden Forest, looking like ghastly animated corpses, but they seemed happy enough, and friendly with the groundskeepers, Hagrid and Ogg. "Did you see Shaw? The man who was at the teachers' table this morning?"

"Yeah. And Gabrielle, she saw him, and made a weird little noise and I thought she was going to say something. But then she turned into solid gold." Karl shook his head. "She was way too heavy for me to carry, and we sank straight down behind the trees. I doubt Shaw saw us, but I flew as far as I could so that he wouldn't find her. Then I put her down in a glen and covered her up with some leaves. And then I flew the long way around the forest so that no-one would see exactly where I'd been."

"You can tell Dumbledore," Erik said, firmly. "He hates Shaw and people like him. Or Professor Shomron. He's a Jew, the same as Gabrielle and me. I don't really know him, but I'm certain he wouldn't tell Shaw."

Karl pressed his lips together. "No. I promised not to tell teachers. And when I came in from the grounds with Professor Shomron, the first thing I saw was the Headmaster practically embracing Shaw in the courtyard. Gabrielle will be okay where she is, at least until Shaw is gone. It's an impermanent transfiguration, human to gold."

"You should try to smuggle her some food and water in case she changes back before Shaw is gone." Erik couldn't argue with Karl's logic. Even if Dumbledore could help her, he would only be bringing her into Hogwarts with Shaw. 

"I'll try tomorrow. I've been confined to the dorm and common room for now, but there'll be plenty I can pack up from the sideboard. Fruitcake is her favourite. And they can't keep me inside forever, unless they want the curse to go into effect right here in the dorm."

Erik nodded. Gabrielle was safe and he had no doubt that she'd survived without food or proper shelter before and could do it again. 

\---

Charles's head hurt. It felt as if he'd bitten into ice-cream, a sharp, cold pain. He opened his eyes slowly to see a plain white ceiling rather than the familiar canopy of his bed, and when he turned his head there was a window rather than Hank's stack of books. He had to blink again to focus, but when he did Armando and Angel were waving at him through the window. 

"You're in the infirmary!" Armando called out, his voice muffled. 

Before Charles could reply, Healer Yaxley strode through the door. "Good to see you awake, lad." He lifted Charles to a seated position, watching him closely. 

"I feel fine!" Charles protested. 

"Pleased to hear it. You and Miss Frost caught each other in a spell-lock, and what you were doing casting spells at each other in the Great Hall is beyond me."

Charles blinked. He hadn't been casting a spell: Miss Frost must have the same early magical abilities as he did. No wonder Shaw was interested in her. He could see Armando frantically making shushing gestures behind the Healer's back, and nodded in response. "If I'm feeling better, can I go?"

"There's no reason to keep you," Healer Yaxley told him, lifting a large brown glass bottle from the side table and pouring a bitter-smelling medicine onto a large spoon. "Now, have a spoonful of this tonic and you can be on your way."

The spoon was at his lips just as he opened his mouth to protest, and in it went, tasting as bitter and oily as it had smelled. Charles spluttered, and the Healer was satisfied. 

"There you are, right as rain. Miss Frost should be stirring soon, so off you go." 

Charles might not have tried to leave if he'd known there was a chance to talk to the strange girl, but it was too late now. He got up, feeling more debilitated by the nasty taste of the tonic than by the whole spell-lock affair, put on his shoes, and re-joined Armando. The girl was still tucked into bed, her blonde hair spilling across the pillow, but Charles could have sworn that her eyes were open, just a fraction.

"Erik found out where Gabrielle Haller is – he says she's safe there, Shaw doesn't have her," Armando whispered.

"And it doesn't look like Shaw is interested in Raven after all, but he's certainly interested in you now," Angel added, sounding disturbingly cheerful about the turn-about. "Did you find out anything?"

Before Charles could answer, Chava Prydeman, Druella Rosier and Ignatius Prewett appeared at the door: one prefect from each of their houses. 

"Right then," Chava said, "Off to your dorms. No need to bother the Healer anymore."

Armando patted his pocket and Charles remembered they had a way to communicate anyway. He went with Chava without protest, waving to the other two as they parted at the stairway. 

"Whatever you were up to, it really wasn't the day for it," Chava told him. "Dippet took ten points from Ravenclaw once the Healer told him about the spell-lock. Honestly, Charles, you should know better than to cast spells at visitors, no matter how curious you are about them."

Charles hung his head. "I'm sorry. She's American, so I thought maybe…" he trailed off, hoping Chava would fill in the rest herself. 

"Director Shaw isn't likely to let you two go on a date, or whatever would happen in America. We haven't seen hide nor hair of the two boys since your little stunt, and when Emma wakes up, I'm sure she'll be hidden away just as swiftly." 

"Sorry," Charles said again. He really was sorry about the house points, and about ruining their chances to make contact with Shaw's three wards. 

Chava must have picked up on the sincerity, because she ruffled his hair before answering today's riddle and herding him into the Ravenclaw common room. "Don't cause any more trouble, hear?"

"I won't!" Charles could see Hank hovering in the doorway that led to their dorms and practically ran over to him, desperate to hear what had gone on while he was unconscious. 

Moira was in their dorm, too, with Larry Trask nowhere to be seen. She gave Charles a brief and surprising hug, then cleared her throat, embarrassed to be so emotional. 

"Right, then. What did you find out? Shaw tried to cast a spell on you, but Raven and I told Healer Yaxley and he had to pretend it wasn't him. That's why you were in the isolation room, so no-one could get at you."

"You'll be safe in the dorm as long as Shaw doesn't actually come in here," Hank added earnestly. "Ravenclaw Tower is heavily protected, and so are the other dorms."

"Good!" Charles finally managed to get a word in edgeways. "Is everyone else all right? Is Erik still in his dorm?"

"He's staying put," Moira told him, with an eyeroll.

"Did Angel or Armando tell you about Gabrielle Haller from Gryffindor?" Hank asked. "Erik talked to Karl Lykos, and apparently she's hiding somewhere but she's safe. That's all Erik would say about her – he's sworn to secrecy or something." Hank didn't seem too impressed that there was a secret being kept from him. "So what did you find out about Emma Frost?"

Charles sat on the edge of his bed and tried to remember. He'd only been in contact briefly, but it had been more intense than he expected. "She doesn't like Shaw very much, but she's not fond of anyone else either. Except the two boys, she doesn't mind them because they do what she says." Charles frowned. It was surprisingly difficult to retrieve solid information from their connection; his eyes hurt as if a light had been shone into them. "Um, Shaw definitely tells her she's important and better than everyone else, and they're here to establish themselves."

"Erik?" Moira asked urgently.

Charles was much clearer about that. "No, she doesn't know about him, nothing at all." 

"That could just mean that Shaw hasn't told her."

"No, she's aware of what they're here to do, I'm sure about that." Emma's certainty in herself had been very clear. 

Hank had been relaying Charles's comments into his pocketknife, and Erik's voice interrupted. 

"So what did she get out of you, Charles?"

"She was very surprised, so I don't think she got much…"

Erik's scorn was palpable through the faint, scratchy sounds of the spell. "Yes, but what? Much is not the same as nothing."

Charles glared at Hank's pocketknife, even though he knew Erik couldn't see it. "I'm getting there, all right? She got my name, definitely, and that Raven and Cain are my relatives and we came from America. She was interested in that. Oh! She's from Boston. There's lots of Boston Frosts, she must be one of them. I think we're distant relatives."

"What does that mean?" Moira snapped. She hated it when Charles was vague.

"They're a well-known wizarding family. My mother knew them and said she nearly married one. They're very wealthy, very traditional, so I have no idea how Shaw would get Emma Frost away from them."

"I have some ideas," Angel interrupted, darkly. "Families like that always have secrets. Also, I found out where Shaw is right now. Our Quidditch captain just took him out to inspect the playing fields, along with Madame Sykes and Headmaster Dippet. And he was talking about coming to work here."

"Dumbledore would never let him!" Erik and Armando talked over each other. 

"Dumbledore's not the Headmaster, is he?" Alex made his first contribution. He sounded cranky, but that was nothing unusual, especially if he'd spent all day running errands for Erik. "And Headmaster Dippet was his new best friend."

Moira shook her head "Don't worry. Shaw won't be around long enough to take up a position. He can get as cuddly with the Headmaster as he wants."

Sean agreed. "No need for us to go borrowing trouble. Now, I have to ask, Professor Black has requested to see Raven. Is it all right to let her go, or should I tell her not to?"

"Can you go with her?" Charles asked. 

"I doubt I'll be allowed…"

Charles didn't think so either. "Still, Raven knows about all of this now, since being in the infirmary. We should make her her own pocketknife so she can keep in touch. And Moira said Shaw didn't seem interested in her."

"All right, Sean, here's how to transfer the charm." Moira gave Sean instructions, and shortly afterwards Charles was delighted to hear Raven's voice coming out of Hank's pocketknife. 

"Hello, hello! Can you hear me?" 

"Yes, Raven! Hello! You don't think Professor Black is involved with Shaw, do you?"

"No way. He's a terrible snob about people who aren't in his family. He's probably just got the potion ready to see if I'm related to him or not."

"Oh yes, of course. Well, make sure there's a prefect with you, just in case."

"We have to have prefects with us every time we go anywhere, Charles, there's no escape! And I'm still mad at you for keeping secrets from me, by the way."

Shortly after that, it was dinnertime and everyone rushed down the steps to the Great Hall. They hadn't heard anything from Raven since she'd arrived at Professor Black's study, so it was a bit of a relief for Charles to see Shaw and his students ensconced at the teachers' table, safely away from Raven. Shaw was sitting next to Headmaster Dippet, and they seemed to be getting along beautifully. Professor Merrythought, on the other side of the Headmaster, seemed extremely put out, with frequent barely-disguised glares at both Shaw and Dippet. Dumbledore and a few other teachers were nowhere to be seen: they must still be out searching for Gabrielle. 

Headmaster Dippet stood up to speak and everyone fell quiet, waiting for news of the missing student. 

"Good evening. I am pleased to inform you that the disruption to today's classes that most of you suffered will not be continuing tomorrow. Aurors are on their way to Hogwarts to continue the search for Miss Haller and I am sure that we will find her safe and unharmed. There is no evidence of a threat to other students." He seemed quite dubious about this, but as far as Charles could tell, that was the Headmaster's usual expression anyway. 

"Additionally, the Ravenclaw-Slytherin Quidditch match scheduled for this Saturday will be going ahead." This brought scattered cheers from the students, which Dippet quickly shushed. "In the meantime, I'm sure you will all continue to follow the leadership of your House Prefects and travel only in groups between classes. Now, Third Years, you'll need to be on your best behaviour tomorrow morning, as Director Shaw here will be visiting your Defence Against the Dark Arts class and assessing the curriculum."

This was obviously a surprise to Professor Merrythought, as she abruptly pushed away from the table and stood up before remembering herself and sitting down again. Her face was flushed an angry red, but she said nothing. Charles couldn't see any particular reaction from the Third Year students beyond mild annoyance – and why would there be, since they didn't know Shaw? – then dinner arrived and everyone tucked in to their venison and piles of roast vegetables with gravy. 

By the time Charles was eating his trifle with strawberry jelly, he was starting to get worried about Raven. She hadn't shown up for dinner – and Raven loved her dinner – nor had she sent a message through the pocketknife. 

"Have you heard from Raven?" he asked Hank and Moira, but neither of them had. A few minutes more, and Charles couldn't think about anything except that Raven might be in trouble. Shaw was right there at the table but that didn't mean he hadn't done something terrible first. Or maybe Professor Black had – Charles didn't quite trust him, for all he said he would take care of Raven. 

"Moira, I'm going to contact Raven. She can at least tell us she's all right."

Moira nodded, and Charles reached into his pocket. The knife wasn't there. He reached into his other pockets, more and more frantic, but it wasn't in any of them. Hank and Moira turned to him as he search, both with dawning horror on their faces. 

"I can't find it!" Charles looked on the floor under his seat as if it might have fallen down there, despite the depth of his robe pockets. 

"Shaw must have it," Moira whispered, her face white. "He must have taken it in the infirmary. And if he has it, he could have heard every single thing we said this afternoon."

"We have to check on Raven!" Hank said, frantically, pulling out his own pocketknife. 

"Go ahead!" Moira was already diving under the table to crawl over to the Gryffindors without being spotted by the teachers or prefects. "It won't make any difference now!" 

Hank handed Charles his pocketknife, and stretched one long arm backwards to grab Sean at the Hufflepuff table and pass on the bad news. 

"Raven, are you there?" Charles whispered into the pocketknife. Alex glared daggers across at Charles, but Armando was patting him on the shoulder and preventing him leaping across the room.

"Excuse me, I'm talking to Professor Black," Raven replied crossly. "Did you know that his second cousin married a Frost?"

"Raven! You're all right?"

"Yes, of course I am. Professor Black and I are having supper and he's telling me about being a metamorphmagus. But he says if you don't stop talking to me he'll to confiscate all the pocketknives in the school!"

Charles's mind raced. If Shaw did have his knife, it would mean he could hear everything Charles said. But if he didn't do anything, Raven wouldn't be aware that she shouldn't talk. Maybe he could at least distract Shaw from Raven and turn his attention to the rather terrifying Professor Black. "Last thing, then. Why don't you ask Professor Black to invite Miss Frost to supper, since they're related by marriage? I'm sure I'll shut up now." He emphasised the word "sure" and "shut up" as strongly as he dared, hoping that Raven would pick up that he meant "Shaw". 

"That's a good idea! I'll tell him! Now, no more talking." Raven's voice cut off – she must have dropped the pocketknife into her book bag or pocket – and Charles was left trusting that her final words meant that she got the message. 

One of the Slytherin prefects, Orion Black, jumped to his feet as if someone had shouted in his ear, and approached the main table. He was Professor Black's son, Charles remembered, so it shouldn't be surprising that he was the messenger boy. Cain and Charles had been the go-betweens between their respective parents often enough. Orion approached the main table and spoke briefly to Headmaster Dippet, then politely walked around to pull out Emma Frost's chair, take her arm, and lead her out of the hall. Without meaning to, Charles's gaze slipped across to Shaw, the exact person he wanted to avoid, and Shaw met his gaze with a brief, pointed smirk. Charles was certain now: Shaw knew about Erik. 

Armando seemed to have things in hand, though. He was speaking to one of Gryffindor's red-headed prefects, his hand still on Alex's shoulder, and the prefect escorted them from the Great Hall. 

Moira popped up beside Charles, back from her under-the-table journey. "Armando is going to talk to Erik and make sure he's not doing anything dramatic," she said. 

"I don't think Erik's going to…" Charles couldn't quite complete the sentence, even out of loyalty to his friend. Erik was a pretty dramatic person once he got wound up, and Shaw spying on their private conversation and potentially ruining Dumbledore's plan was more than enough incentive. "Well, I'm glad Armando and Alex are heading up to the dorm," he finished, weakly. 

"We'll all meet in the library after dinner," Moira whispered. "They'll never let us go off to the Astronomy Tower with Gabrielle still missing."

"That sounds good," Charles agreed, but his thoughts were with Raven and Erik, hoping that they were safe and out of Shaw's way.


	7. Chapter 7

" _Finite Incantum_." Erik severed the spell on his pocketknife. The knives had been a bad idea all along: what was he thinking, needing to be friends with people so much that he'd talked to them over the equivalent of an open radio channel? He never should have trusted Charles and Moira in the first place, not when Dumbledore had a perfectly good plan without the involvement of children. Taking the opportunity of knowing exactly where Shaw was, Erik crept out of the dorm and towards Dumbledore's office. 

The stairs were being particularly obnoxious tonight, twice directing Erik down to the Great Hall rather than Dumbledore's office, but it did give him the opportunity to spot one of the Slytherin prefects, Professor Black's son, escorting Emma Frost up the stairs towards an area of the school where Erik hadn't been before. His plan had originally been to hide in Dumbledore's office until the professor arrived, but this was too much of an opportunity to pass up. Neither of them seemed to have the slightest awareness of Erik's presence, even when he moved up quite close behind them to make sure he could stay on the same staircase. 

They arrived at the Divination classroom, a weird round room painted all white, and walked through it to Professor Black's office.

"I didn't realise you learned Divination here at Hogwarts," Emma said to Orion Black, her thin eyebrows raised. "Don't you find it a little old-fashioned?"

"I'm taking a NEWT in Divination, actually," Orion replied. 

"Fascinating." Emma's tone suggested the exact opposite. "I suppose there'll be a great deal of reform in the future."

Orion looked puzzled, but it confirmed Erik's suspicions that Shaw was planning to stay. It was a surprise to feel how angry he was about that; not just that Shaw was out in the world doing what he wanted, but that he would dare come here, where Erik was welcomed and felt safer than he could remember. Maybe that's how Dumbledore felt, too, for all he was lauded as a war hero. 

Professor Black's office was crowded with shelves of carefully labelled bottles, not to mention Raven sitting on a narrow couch holding a mug of what smelled like hot cocoa. She saw Erik perfectly clearly, and her eyes widened. Before she could speak, he put his finger to his lips and glared at her. She glared back, but took his warning. 

"Ah, Miss Frost," Professor Black was saying. "What a pleasure to meet one of the Boston Frosts here at Hogwarts. I was sorry to hear of the loss of my cousin Ara – your great-aunt, I believe?"

"Yes, that's correct. My great-aunt on my father's side. I didn't know her well, but thank you for your condolences."

"And will you be gracing us with your presence for long?" Professor Black waved at Orion, who backed out of the small office, nearly bumping into Erik, and made his way out of the classroom. 

Emma sat herself neatly on one of the chairs, crossing her legs daintily. "I do hope so. My guardian, Mr Shaw, is hoping to find a staff position here."

Professor Black laughed. "Defence Against the Dark Arts perhaps? It's a popular position these days." He started to chat about other people who had applied for the job, while Erik saw Emma frown just like Charles did when he was trying to find out something. Something caught Erik's eye: there was a small, ornately framed mirror on the desk, and the more Emma concentrated, the more it glowed. Professor Black must have a magical device to protect him from people like Charles and Emma, or, to be fair, from experienced Legilimens. 

Raven also saw the glow and quickly sloshed her hot cocoa onto Emma's white skirt. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" 

"You silly girl!" Emma snapped, and dabbed at her stained skirt. Professor Black's gaze swung from Raven to Emma to the mirror, and he nodded politely at Raven. 

"Never mind, Miss Frost. A spell will see to that. Scourgify!"

The brown mess vanished from Emma's skirt, and from the intricate carpet under the desk. 

"Well, thank you," Emma sniffed, only to have Professor Black grab her wrist.

"You, young lady, were trying to read my mind. I'm no fool – I can protect myself against a curious Legilimens and put a stop to it."

Erik wasn't so sure how true that was, considering that it had been Raven who distracted Emma, but he appreciated that Professor Black started from a position of strength. 

Professor Black stood, towering over Emma with his dark robes and heavy eyebrows. "Did Shaw put you up to this?"

"N-no," Emma was trying to maintain her cool composure with only partial success. "I'm a natural Legilimens, I was only trying to find out if you were likely to hurt me or not…" Her eyes brimmed with glistening tears, which Erik didn't believe in the slightest. 

Professor Black didn't seem impressed, either. "I understand why you and young Mr Xavier had your collision at lunch. There's a lot of you talented young people in this generation: Legilimens, a metamorphmagus…"

Something flashed with incredible brightness in Emma's hand and Professor Black slumped to the floor, his eyes wide and unseeing. Raven shrieked, and Emma turned to her.

"You're the metamorphmagus, aren't you? I picked it up from your brother's memories and told Shaw all about you." Whatever she was holding was still glowing so brightly that Erik could barely see anything else in the room. 

"What does he want?" Raven's sounded as if she was about to cry.

"He wants to help you understand your power," Emma told her. "He wants everyone to understand their power, and that's why he wants to teach here. Hogwarts is stuffed full of Muggle-borns and orphans and foundlings like you and Shaw wants to help." 

Muggle-borns and orphans and foundlings was a perfect description of the Jewish and Gypsy children Shaw had "helped" at the camp. Erik's fists clenched and he stepped forward without thinking, swinging a hard punch at Emma's gut. 

He connected and she immediately saw him in the bright light of the object she held, a huge diamond. 

"Who are you?" she gasped, staggering against her chair. The gem she had used to take down Professor Black had fell from her hand, its light immediately extinguished, and she fumbled for her wand. Too late, as Raven suddenly turned blue, grew three feet in height and used her newly elongated arm to smack Emma in the face with her cocoa mug. Emma slumped to the ground alongside Professor Black.

"What are you doing, you maniac?" Raven yelled at Erik. "You're supposed to stay hidden!"

"Shaw can't teach here! He can't! We have to tell Dumbledore."

Raven sighed. "But what about Emma Frost? We can't just leave her here. What if she wakes up first and attacks Professor Black again?"

"Can you change into Healer Yaxley?" 

Raven demonstrated a perfect copy, though her voice remained high and girlish. "Oh, of course, I'll just carry her! No-one will stop the Healer if he's got a patient. Is Professor Dumbledore's office far?"

"No, not very, and with any luck we won't even run into anyone on the way." Erik reached for the now dull gem that Emma had dropped, but pulled away at the sharp sting when he touched it. It must be attuned to Emma herself, meaning it was useless to him. He pulled his sleeve over his hand and picked it up that way instead, shoving it into a deep pocket. At least Emma wouldn't be able to use it again.

Raven scooped up Emma and followed Erik through the Divination classroom to the hallway. They met only one group of people on the way – that short Ravenclaw prefect that Charles liked leading a group of fourth-years down from Ravenclaw Tower to the library – and Raven's brisk stride as Yaxley left them with obvious curiosity, but no chance to ask questions. Erik followed silently behind, careful not to bump into anyone.

Three-quarters of the way up the stairs to Dumbledore's office, Professor Merrythought headed towards them, her wand out and glowing a faint blue. Raven glanced down at Erik but before they could decide to brazen it out or flee, the professor's gaze focused on Erik and she called out to them. 

"Erik! Yes, I can see you, Dumbledore gave me the counter-charm. We need you in his office immediately. Healer Yaxley, what on earth happened to Miss Frost?"

Raven couldn't manage to hide a giggle at fooling the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but she managed to hold her shape.

"Raven Darkholme, I presume? You'd better keep that form to carry Miss Frost up the rest of the stairs." Professor Merrythought didn't seem put out at all, though she kept her wand out as she escorted them the rest of the way. Erik had to tell her all the details about the attack on Professor Black, as Raven had quite enough to do climbing stairs and holding her large shape intact. 

Dumbledore arrived at his office at the same time as Erik's group did, and he did not seem pleased. Erik quailed a little, but steeled himself with the thought of that powerful anger as a weapon against Shaw. Dumbledore hurried them all into his office and closed the door firmly, muttering a charm as he did so.

"Erik, I am tremendously disappointed in you. I am most surprised that you would tell half of your class about our plan, and now you have endangered it greatly. Shaw is aware of your presence here and we have lost the element of surprise."

Erik tried to keep matching Dumbledore's hard gaze through his shame: Dumbledore was right, and he should never have trusted a bunch of children. 

"Shaw doesn't know much!" Raven had unceremoniously dumped Emma in an armchair and was standing in front of Dumbledore in her natural blue form, her arms folded across her chest, grown a foot taller in anger. "We never said a word about you or whatever your plan is. Mr Shaw thinks he knows everything, he's just that type. And we've captured one of his students, which is more than you did!" 

Professor Merrythought looked like she was about to laugh, and even Dumbledore's mouth quirked slightly. 

"Raven, I was not questioning your bravery, merely your communication method. You're quite correct: Miss Frost may be able to help us a great deal."

"Well, good," Raven replied, her outrage simmering down. She patted Erik's arm. "See, aren't you glad you let me into your club?"

"I'm really not sure," Erik managed, turning his attention to Dumbledore and Merrythought. She must have been Dumbledore's ally all along. It was no coincidence that she had taught the first year students spell-detection just on the very day Charles had needed it to protect him from Shaw. 

The two adults had removed Emma's wand and tied a faded silk ribbon around her forehead. If Erik squinted at it he could faintly see moving runes, but he had no hope of reading them. 

"Rennervate," Merrythought said, and a bright flash of red leapt from her wand to Emma's chest. Emma immediately woke and, instead of running, carefully surveyed the room, just as Erik would have done. He saw the same flicker of concentration on her face as when she had tried to use her Legilimens talent on Professor Black, but it immediately dissolved into confusion.

"What have you done to me?" Emma asked, her voice wild. "What have you done?"

"Nothing permanent, I assure you, Miss Frost." Dumbledore's voice was much warmer than it had been with Erik, and Emma's panic looked to be receding a little, though her gaze still flicked about like an animal scrabbling in a cage.

Professor Merrythought smiled, too, though she wasn't quite as successful as Dumbledore at appearing harmless. "We're simply protecting ourselves from your extraordinary talent, Emma. We can protect you from Mr Shaw, too."

Emma pressed her lips together. "I don't need protecting from Shaw. We are in perfect agreement. Wizards and witches should rule over Muggles; the powerful over the weak."

"You know he thinks you're weak." Erik had heard all of this before. "He won't kill you, but he'll use you up. I was there with him long before you were."

"He's teaching me to be strong." Emma shook her head, but it wasn't hard to see the tension in her pretty face.

Dumbledore put a hand on Erik's shoulder before he could speak again. "Emma, we know that Mr Shaw is here to persuade Headmaster Dippet to give him a teaching position. Professor Merrythought and I are not going to allow that to happen."

"Because he's after her job!" Emma smirked at Professor Merrythought, then quickly clamped her mouth shut again.

"Because he tortures and murders children." Dumbledore corrected her as calmly as he would correct the pronunciation of a spell in the classroom. "I don't want that to happen to you. Don't be afraid, Emma: I won't send you home to Boston, either. You are very welcome to stay at Hogwarts, as are your friends."

Eyes wide, Raven stared from Emma to Erik, putting things together. 

Emma's eyelids lowered for a moment and Erik thought she was going to give in. Instead, she mutely shook her head, and Erik lost his temper.

"Use the Pensieve on her! You can make her talk! Or truth serum!" he shouted, frustrated at the two adults who had so much power but were wasting time asking politely.

Dumbledore's grip tightened on Erik's shoulder. "No, Erik, we're not going to compel a child into what she considers a betrayal. That's a decision for Emma to make."

"Schmidt, I mean, Shaw would have made her talk!" Erik twisted out of Dumbledore's grip.

"Indeed I would have," came Shaw's smooth voice from the doorway. Despite Dumbledore and Merrythought's protective spells, the door had simply collapsed into splinters. "Delighted to see you, Erik."

Erik grabbed Raven and pulled them both behind Dumbledore's enormous desk, his body moving faster than his thoughts. He hadn't wanted to be weak in front of Shaw, but the instinct to hide was far too strong, his stomach churning with bile and his breath short. He peeked around the edge of the desk and saw that Merrythought had drawn her wand, though Dumbledore had not. 

"How did you get in here?" she snapped.

Shaw smiled warmly and put a hand on Emma's shoulder, his wand nowhere to be seen. She beamed up at him but her smile was forced and taut. 

"Wherever my children are, I may go." He pulled the runic ribbon from Emma's head. "And their power must be free. Now, Headmaster Dippet and I both agree I would be a marvellous asset to Hogwarts, and I don't want to get off on the wrong foot here. How about you stop bothering young Emma, and I'll forget whatever foolishness poor Erik has told you. He did go through a great deal in the Muggle war, you know."

Erik wanted to stand up and call Shaw a liar, but his legs weren't co-operating and he felt like he was going to be sick. Raven patted his arm gently. 

"I'm afraid your memory charms were a little rushed in Erik's case," Dumbledore's tone was still completely calm, and Erik wondered if this is how he'd spoken to Grindelwald before battling him. "They had partially worn off when I found him, and it was easy to undo the remnants."

Shaw's smile was sharp. "Are you sure you were helping him, Dumbledore, or were you making this child one of your little projects? Is Erik happier knowing?"

Emma's gaze slid across to Erik and it was the immense tiredness in her face more than any fear or questioning that gave Erik back his strength. He stood up.

"You murdered my mother and you hurt me, and I remember every moment of it. And I've learnt more here in three months here at Hogwarts than I ever did with your training." Erik put as much contempt into the last word as he could. 

"Oh, Erik. Dumbledore doesn't need memory charms to interfere with your perception. He's teaching you to be ordinary, to live inside the lines like everyone else. I was teaching you to be special – you can't even work magic without a wand anymore, can you?" 

Erik twitched towards his wand instinctively, but Shaw was right: he'd been able to bend metal before, wandless and without instruction. It had to be better that he could do lots of different things, without the pain or suffering, didn't it? 

Professor Merrythought took advantage of Shaw's distraction to shout, " _Expelliarmus_!" Instead of Shaw's wand flying from his sleeve, a flash of light knocked Merrythought against the wall and she stumbled and fell. 

"I'm all right," she managed to wheeze, though she was obviously badly winded, before passing out. 

Shaw tutted, a familiar and terrible sound. "We were having a perfectly civilised conversation, Merrythought, until you had to interfere. No wonder Dippet wants me to replace you." He smirked at her, then at Erik. "Now, as I was saying, Dumbledore – and Headmaster Dippet, to be honest – wants you all to be the same, to crush your instinctive talents and make you productive members of Wizarding society. I know, and you know, Erik, that younger witches and wizards have tremendous abilities. All I want to do is develop them, to make you into wonderful creatures of fire and power."

"I don't believe it's worth torturing and occasionally killing children," Dumbledore observed. 

"And if I had free reign I wouldn't have to kill anyone!" Shaw threw his arms wide, his smile persuasive. "That little boy, Charles Xavier, he could be as strong as my Emma."

"Leave him alone!" Erik shouted. No matter how persuasive Shaw's argument sounded, Erik's soul hurt at the idea of Charles in Shaw's hands. 

Shaw ignored him. "And that little girl who tried to run away, Gabrielle Haller! She changed herself into solid gold – oh yes, Erik, she was not hard to find once I knew to trace young Mr Lykos's flight path – and most adult wizards would find that impossible. I dragged her in this evening: someone has already worked on her potential but I'm sure I can find more."

"No, you can't!" Gabrielle's voice came from behind the desk and she stood up, her face stern. "You're evil, and when the Headmaster finds out you were having Emma spy on everyone, he'll throw you out!" 

Even though Erik knew Raven's abilities perfectly well, he was still taken in for a moment, and Shaw was certainly shocked. He glanced out at the hallway then back to the angry little girl, and in that moment Dumbledore acted. His wand was swiftly at Shaw's temple, and with a neat gesture he twisted a long silvery strand from Shaw's head. Shaw lunged at him bare-handed, but he was too late: Dumbledore whisked the cover from a large stone bowl filled with silvery liquid and dropped the strand in, where it mingled with the rest.

Sounds and voices emerged from the bowl: a screaming girl, gunshots, the shriek of tearing steel, someone crying out for help in Yiddish, Shaw's soothing voice talking over the top of the other voices in his accented German. 

"Pain and fear, Erik," he said, and at the same time, "Fear and silence, Janos, anger and pain, Emma." His amplified voice ran on and on, and Shaw glared at Dumbledore with a naked rage that knocked Erik two steps backwards. 

Emma and Raven were both hiding behind the desk and Erik stumbled to join them, desperate to be away from Shaw's attention. He kept hearing a raw-voiced scream of rage that he knew was his own, at his mother's death, and he couldn't stand it. He didn't, though, realise that he was crying until Raven pushed her grotty handkerchief at him. Emma was crying too, but her expression was as cold and focused as ever, as if the tears gleaming on her face belonged to someone else. 

"Don't worry," Raven whispered, patting his shoulder. "It will be okay as long as we stick together."

\---

Moira had assembled Charles, Hank, Angel and Sean in the library, though they wouldn't have long until they were all sent to their respective dorms for the night. Shaw and the two boys with him had left swiftly after dinner, as had Professor Merrythought. They had heard nothing more from Erik or Raven, but at least they knew Raven was safe with Professor Black. The only group members absent were Alex and Armando, who had gone up to the dorm to check on Erik since they could no longer safely use their penknife radios.

"I'm sure he's doing just fine," Moira told Charles, patting his arm. In fact, Moira thought nothing of the sort, but Charles was always such a worrywart that she had developed a habit of calming him down.

Sean was fidgeting, as usual. "Do you want me to check if Raven's in the Hufflepuff dorm? There's some Hufflepuffs going with a prefect right now." 

"No! The last thing we need is more of us wandering off. We don't know where Shaw is, or what he's heard, so we have to stay close." 

"Do you think he knows about Gabrielle?" Angel asked. "We didn't say anything specific about her, but Erik definitely mentioned Karl once or twice. Do you think she's okay? I mean, she can't be hurt while she's solid gold, can she?"

Moira was starting to feel as if she was herding cats. "There's nothing we can do about it at the moment!"

"Shh!" said Madam Fletcher as she passed by, a group of anxious Seventh Year students following in her wake.

It was good that the library was busy with club meetings and illicit dates since everyone had to travel in groups, and their little group wouldn't attract attention; it was equally bad, because it was hard to find anywhere private enough to talk about Shaw. Moira spotted her opportunity and bustled everyone towards a table that the Seventh Years had just vacated. 

"Now stay here: we don't have the time to find you if you wander off."

Of all people, Cain Marko spotted them. "Hey! You guys are always hanging out together. What are you up to?"

"Homework," Charles told him with immense dignity and Cain rolled his eyes. 

"Typical. You seen Raven? She wasn't at the dorm."

"What do you care?" Moira snapped. She'd heard about Cain's bullying ways. 

He muttered something and headed off towards his even larger friend Fred Dukes. 

"What did he say?" she asked Hank, who had excellent hearing.

Hank replied, in some bemusement, "He said 'Hufflepuffs stick together.'" 

"Well!" Charles said, as if he was a forty-year-old man rather than a boy with the manners of one. 

"Look, it's Armando and Alex!" Hank was by far the tallest of them, and could see over the heads of all the other students, whereas Moira was stuck staring at black robes. She hoped they had Erik with them, but she wasn't entirely sure of how Professor Dumbledore's spell worked, so perhaps he wasn't visible to Hank yet. 

Much to Moira's annoyance, Erik was nowhere to be found. 

"He wasn't in the dorm," Armando explained. "Karl had been with him in the afternoon but he came down to dinner, so there would have been no-one there to see where he went. I asked the Fat Lady – that's the portrait outside our dorm – but all she could tell me is that he stomped off down the hall in a terrible rush."

"At least he was by himself," Alex added, darkly. "He'd left his pocketknife by his bed, even though he'd taken the spell off. It's still a knife, he should have kept it."

Moira gave Alex a stern glare – she'd often seen him playing with his knife in class – but it had no effect whatsoever. Still, she supposed now wasn't the time. 

Charles seemed energised by this news rather than upset. "Well then, we'd better find him. Do you think he's fled Hogwarts?"

"Because Erik's exactly the type of boy to run away from a fight," Angel muttered. 

Charles, sounding horribly offended, told her, "No, I meant he might have gone to help Gabrielle, actually."

Moira stepped between them. "If he has somehow got out of the castle, he's out of Shaw's way and perfectly safe. Not that I know how he'd help Gabrielle, but at least we won't have to worry about him. I'm more concerned that he's gone to confront Shaw."

"Wouldn't he go to Dumbledore first?" Hank asked, nervously. "I mean, Dumbledore knows all about Shaw. And he defeated Grindelwald in the war, so he can probably defeat Shaw if he needs to. Or maybe-"

Sean interrupted Hank's theorising. "I know how we can find out!" 

Everyone looked at him. Sean was a very enthusiastic participant in their planning, especially the practice fights, but he didn't usually come forward with ideas. The sudden attention turned him bright red under his freckles. 

"Well, um, don't tell anyone, but our Quidditch Captain thinks that a few of us might be on the team next year, so she's been giving us secret broom training."

"That's not a secret! My Quidditch Captain found out what you were doing and now she's training me!" Angel argued. 

"She is?"

"Yes, out past the lake just after dinner. She says I'm the best flyer in my year."

"Oh. Well, my point is, because it's secret, we train up in the air near Ravenclaw Tower, so the tower blocks everyone's view. To get up there we use the big vine that grows up the eastern wall. It's enchanted so it carries you up, but it's a bit slow so you can look in all the windows as you go. You can see most of the teacher's offices if you stand in different places each time, and heaps of the staircases and corridors."

"Brilliant!" Moira clapped Sean on the back. "All of us together will be able to check every floor without anyone knowing we're there."

"We just have to get there," Charles pointed out. The prefects were still escorting students from place to place, and a group of first years would never be allowed outside on their own. 

Angel snorted. "Oh, that's easy! There's tunnels from the Slytherin dorms all over Hogwarts. There was a Head Boy from Slytherin a few years ago who was always searching for hidden corridors and chambers, someone said, and he had friends who told the rest of the house, so we all know where they are."

"Lead on!" Charles told her, and Angel hustled them all to the bottom floor of the library, a section on magical hydraulics that was boring even to Moira. Angel put a finger on one particular book and had to stretch her arms as far as possible to reach another.

"Can we help?" Moira asked.

"No, the Head Boy set it all to be locked unless you're a Slytherin." She got her fingertips on the second book and a section of the bookcase swung open, revealing a shallow staircase leading downwards. They all hurried in and Angel let the door swing closed behind them.

Hank looked worried – and in the glaring white light of his Lumos spell, practically sick. "Doesn't that mean that only you can get us out?"

"Better stick close, then!" Angel smirked at him, and Hank promptly did, dogging her footsteps. 

The tunnels were meandering and awkwardly shaped, presumably to bend around classrooms and offices, but helpful Slytherins had written directions on the walls in glowing light at most of the junctions. Occasionally they could hear voices or footsteps echoing through the tunnels, but there were so many that they never actually ran into the Slytherins using them. 

"Oh, that's the girls' bathroom that's haunted!" Moira pointed to one sign. 

"Yeah, but it doesn't actually lead there. It's blocked off by another tunnel or something." Angel led them onwards, until the sign read "East Wing." 

"I'm not sure where this tunnel actually comes up, so we'll have to go carefully," she warned as she opened the door. "Hank, you go first. You're a big suck-up so if a teacher sees you they'll go easy on you."

While Hank spluttered, Moira peeped out of the opening to see nothing more exciting than the History of Magic classroom. Nobody was there at this time of night, so she ventured out and gestured for the others to follow her. They all emerged from the tunnel just in time for Professor Binns to float in through the door. 

Moira turned towards the tunnel, but Angel had already closed it, and everyone was frozen in place, hoping Professor Binns didn't glance their way. 

He did, floating directly towards them, but instead of apprehending the out-of-bounds students, he floated through Armando's arm – Armando managed to stifle his horrified shriek – and started writing a series of dates on the blackboard. 

Everyone stared at each other in shock, but Armando wasn't staying put for further ghostly encounters: he scurried for the classroom door at a rapid pace and the rest of the group dashed after him. 

"Is your arm okay?" Moira whispered to him once they were safely in the corridor.

"So cold!" Armando gasped. Alex grabbed his arm and rubbed it roughly, restoring some warmth. 

It wasn't far from the History of Magic classroom to the door out into the grounds, and fortunately the corridor was otherwise unoccupied. The door was barred, but since they were on the correct side to lift the bar, this posed no obstacle. 

Moira gasped as the bitterly cold outdoor air rushed in: none of them had thought to bring a coat. Still, with any luck it wouldn't take long to find Erik. She stomped out into the light snow, followed by Sean, but the other students hesitated. 

"Oh come on! There's hardly any wind and we'll be inside in no time! It's going to take you longer than five minutes to freeze."

"Do you think Gabrielle's really okay if she's outside in this?" Charles asked, but did what Moira said and moved out into the chilly night. 

Armando shrugged. "She's probably survived worse. And if she's still transfigured into gold I suppose she'll be fine anyway."

"This way to the vine!" Sean pulled at Moira's arm and led them to the huge, still-leafy vine that he'd described. "Just climb on a leaf and it will carry you up to the top." He demonstrated by stepping onto a broad leaf that was touching the ground. The leaf immediately stiffened into a solid platform and began to slowly slide up the main trunk of the vine. The vine was so huge that there was a lot of lateral movement as well as vertical, and Moira understood what Sean meant about getting to look in lots of windows. 

"All aboard, come on!" Moira started pushing the others onto more of the broad, accommodating leaves, until everyone was taking a varied path along and up. 

There were several classrooms on the east side of the castle, but many more teachers' offices and storerooms. Moira was terribly tempted to duck in a window and liberate a Potions textbook from a storage room stacked high with second-year texts, just to get a head start for next year, but she restrained herself: Erik might be in serious trouble. 

Sean, the highest up of the group, pointed into one of the tall windows: as Moira got closer she saw Healer Yaxley and the caretaker, Mr Pringle, running up a staircase: if they had glanced up they would have seen seven faces at the windows, but they were in far too much of a hurry. 

"That's the way to Professor Black's office!" Charles whispered from the next leaf, sounding horrified. "Do you think something's happened to Raven?" 

"I'm sure Professor Black will take care of her!" Moira patted Charles's arm. "He's probably called them for Emma Frost – he'd stop her if she tried something silly."

Charles didn't look very comforted by this, but before he could speak again, Alex pointed urgently into another window, then hauled the window open and climbed in. The rest of them scrambled after him, stepping across from leaf to leaf, and Moira tried not to think about the long fall beneath them. 

Alex's keen eyes had spotted a gold statue propped up against a wall. It was Gabrielle Haller, frozen in place with a horrified expression. She was still wearing her school uniform, but underneath she was cold metal. Karl had been carrying her when she had transformed, and her toes were pointed downwards, meaning that her statue couldn't stand up by itself. 

Moira shuddered: Gabrielle's mouth was open in a scream and she was trying to cover her face with her hands. Despite her hard, golden gleam, she looked terribly vulnerable in that moment.

Angel shrugged out of her long black robe, despite shivering with cold, and Moira did the same, understanding what Angel meant to do. Angel put her robe on the stone floor for Gabrielle to lie on, and the two girls started to lower the statue to the ground. It was incredibly heavy, but the five boys had hurried over to help and all together, they managed to lie her down and drape Moira's robe over her, to give her a little privacy in her moment of fear. 

A loud crack sounded from an open door further along the corridor, and a bright orange light lit up the hall for a moment. 

"Come on!" Charles drew his wand and ran towards the door. Moira tried to grab the hem of his robe – surely they should make a plan first – but he pulled free and the other boys raced after him, Angel right behind them. 

\--- 

Charles had been expecting to rush in and save Erik from Shaw's clutches – he was a little vague on the details – but he didn't even make it in the door. The long-haired boy who had been with Shaw was there, and he cast a spell to create a great gust of wind that sent Charles flying backwards into Hank and the rest of their group, all of them crashing to the floor. Before anyone else could act, the other one – a ruddy-faced boy old enough to have a stubbly beard – was blocking their way, his body crackling with red energy. 

Moira was the only one left standing. "We don't want to fight you!" she called out. 

"Then stay where you are," the stubble-faced boy told her. "Mr Shaw is having a meeting and doesn't want to be interrupted."

Charles wriggled out from underneath Sean's leg. "We just want to find our friend."

"The metamorphmagus? She'll be fine. Shaw thinks she's great." There was a sneer in the boy's voice that Charles really didn't like, but he took a deep breath and didn't argue. If Shaw had Raven as well as Erik, he had to keep his wits about him. 

"Actually, that's my sister. Maybe Shaw wants to meet me, too." 

"Charles, no!" Moira called out, but this only seemed to be more convincing to the boy. 

"So you're a metamorphmagus too? No, wait, you're the one who knocked out Emma. I bet she'd like to see you."

He glanced into the room – still glowing orange – and as he did Angel called out " _Flipendo_ ," pushing the long-haired boy off-balance, whereupon Alex punched him in the face and knocked his head against the wall. 

" _Locomotor Mortis_!" Armando shouted at the same moment and the stubble-faced boy fell flat on his face. They all pointed their wands at the boy.

He raised his hands. "Fine. Go to Shaw. I hope you get what you want."

Charles opened his mouth to reply when the boy vanished in a puff of red smoke. He reappeared next to the other boy, dragged him free of Alex and the pair of them disappeared again. 

"That's the weirdest Apparating I've ever seen!" Armando said, his mouth hanging open. "And wandless!" 

"I read about Shaw: he thinks we should all have one powerful ability, instead of learning different kinds of magic with a wand. That's why he needs children, to train them young." Hank explained.

"Well, he's not getting Erik and Raven!" Charles ran towards the open door. 

The door was not so much open as destroyed, splinters littering the hall. The orange glow filled the doorway and Charles bounced off it with a surprised yelp. 

"Stop, it's enspelled!" he called out and the others screeched to a halt behind him, except for Moira who was hanging back, her arms folded angrily. 

"What are you planning to do when you get in there?" Moira demanded. 

Sean butted in. "Can you see inside? Or hear anything?" 

Charles peered through the orange light. There were two adult-sized silhouettes and a big dark block that must be a desk, but it was difficult to make out anything else. "There's people in there, but I can't hear them at all."

Angel poked at the orange glow with her wand. "Shaw wouldn't have had those boys guarding the door if there was no chance of breaking the spell. Let's try."

"Wait!" Moira said again. "Then what? We can fight two kids, but what are we meant to do against Shaw?"

Alex was uncompromising. "Take him out. There's seven of us, plus Erik and Raven. He can't hit us all at once. Me and Angel can distract him and the rest of you can get his wand."

Angel looked a bit dubious at her part in the plan, but nodded. "Yeah, strength in numbers."

Moira didn't sound any happier. "Still, we should check that Erik and Raven are actually in there and we're not walking into a wizard duel for nothing. You can do that, Charles."

"Oh! Yes, yes I can." Charles leaned his head against the bright glow and tried to find the minds inside. Fortunately, the barrier didn't seem to interfere, and Charles reached out carefully. The moment he did, he recognised Raven's mind: she was intensely focused on calling to Charles himself, and that made her easy to find and read. She was scared but defiant and unhurt. Emma Frost was near her somewhere – her mind was closed off to Charles like the teachers' minds – and Erik nearer the two adults. 

"Raven's definitely in there – she's okay but she's trying to summon us for help – and Erik's there too, plus Emma Frost and two adults."

"Must be Dumbledore and Shaw," Armando noted. "Can you talk to Raven at all? We'll work on the barrier."

"I'll try to reach out to her." Charles closed his eyes to concentrate as shouts of " _Finite Incantatem_ " echoed around him and the orange barrier shuddered under the repeated assaults. 

"Hello, Charles." Emma's voice felt cool in his head but he could feel the fractured terror underneath. 

"Hello, Emma. Are you all right? Is Raven? And Erik?" Charles tried to stay as cool, but it was impossible to hide things, mind-to-mind. He'd never spoken to anyone like this before and it was both dazzling and terrifying. 

"Professor Dumbledore did something to Mr Shaw and Mr Shaw's really mad. He was planning to come here and teach but now I think he's going to hurt Professor Dumbledore." She didn't have to say "and me."

"Can you help Professor Dumbledore?"

"Your horrible sister and I are behind this desk and that's where I'm staying! Mr Shaw might forgive me for hiding, but he'll never forgive me for turning against him."

"Where's Erik?" Charles' relief about Raven and terror for Erik made his heart thump. 

"Shaw's making him help."

" _Finite Incantatem_!" came everyone's voices at once and the barrier collapsed, spilling Charles forward into the room, which turned out to be Professor Dumbledore's study. 

Shaw was standing in the middle of the room, a smug expression on his face, while Dumbledore was near the window, his arms folded and no wand in sight. Professor Merrythought lay in a corner, her robes giving off thin threads of green smoke. Erik was standing near Shaw, half-hidden from Charles, though Charles could see Erik's fist was clenched. 

"How delightful!" Shaw crowed. "An audience! Come in, children. I would very much like you to see this."

"See what?" Charles demanded. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Raven peep around the corner of the desk, give him a thumbs up, and retreat again.

"See exactly what you're missing when you learn to suppress your natural magic in favour of an education. Oh, and for those of you thinking about attacking me, cast your eyes over Merrythought and think again. She saw plenty of combat in the war, but she was still no match for me."

Alex, who had edged up close to Charles, moved back a little. Merrythought wasn't dead, but she didn't look well, either. Talking about attacking Shaw was very different to actually doing it. 

"I'm not sure what you're trying to achieve," Dumbledore said, his voice as calm as if he was in a classroom. "The Pensieve is heavily warded against magical attacks, much more so that my door was." He was gesturing towards a large stone bowl that had a smaller metal bowl inside it. The surface was covered with swirling white mist. Charles didn't know what it was, exactly, but it felt old and powerful.

Shaw smirked. "And that's exactly what I want to show these children. Erik, destroy the Pensieve."

"No," Erik said, very quietly. 

Shaw glanced over at Charles and the other students with him. "My dear Erik, you know what will happen if you don't."

His expression had been mild, but Erik obviously understood what Shaw was talking about. He abruptly turned his back on Charles and reached his bare hands out towards the Pensieve, shaking with effort. He had no wand and had cast no spell, yet the metal bowl shivered and clanked against the stone, then suddenly began to fold in on itself, the metal shrieking as it collapsed.

"What's he doing?" Armando whispered.

"Using his natural ability rather than his wand," Hank answered, sounding fascinated despite himself. 

"I killed someone with my natural ability!" Alex spat, and ran at Shaw, an ominous red glow forming on Alex's chest. Angel and Armando followed just a step behind. The red glow coalesced into a circle of red light that launched from Alex to Shaw and had no effect whatsoever. A sweep of Shaw's arm send Alex flying towards the wall, and the other two students bounced off him as Charles had bounced off the barrier at the doorway. 

" _Aresto Momentum_!"

Alex's flight slowed and stopped with his head inches from the stone wall. Dumbledore's wand was out, and he gestured to set Alex down with utmost care. 

"That's enough, Shaw. These children are not your enemies."

"No," Shaw replied, smiling fondly. "They will be my pupils." He looked down at Alex, who seemed dazed despite Dumbledore's neat catch. "You killed someone, you say?" 

A heavy candlestick suddenly flew at Shaw's head, bouncing off his skull. He staggered only slightly, but he glared at Erik as a second candlestick barely missed him. "Enough!" He seized Erik by the throat and marched him backwards across the room, lifting him off the ground as Erik kicked and fought to break free. 

Charles, Moira and Sean pointed their wands at Shaw, Charles desperately running through his few spells trying to work out which would most likely stop Shaw strangling Erik. 

"No!" Dumbledore called, "Don't use magic on Shaw! You'll only make him stronger!" 

"O ho! Figured it out, have you?" Shaw laughed, bashing the struggling Erik against a wall to punctuate. 

" _Incarcerous Arbore!_ " Dumbledore pointed his wand not at Shaw but at the floor by his feet, and rope-like black vines erupted upwards. Unlike Alex's attempt at a magic, this seemed to have an effect, and Charles thought it must be because the spell hadn't been cast directly on Shaw. 

As the vines wrapped around Shaw, he dropped Erik, who fell, gasping. Charles chanced running between Shaw and Dumbledore and skidded to the floor beside his friend. 

"Erik, Erik, are you all right?"

Erik was still trying to protect his bruised throat, but he grabbed Charles' arm with his other hand, as if to assure himself that Charles was real. "You have to get out of here," he wheezed.

"Not without you. Come on." Charles hauled Erik to his feet, and across the room he saw Raven dash from behind the desk to stand at Moira's side, near the door. Armando and Angel were pulling a dazed Alex with them. Even Professor Merrythought was struggling up from her prone position in the corner. Shaw, however, was bound to the floor by thin black vines, and immobilised. 

Dumbledore stood over Shaw, his wand drawn. "I will not allow you to harm more children."

"You're the one using children to fight your battles," Shaw snarled as the vines tightened. Charles couldn't help but notice that Shaw's body was starting to glow the same red as Alex's magic, mostly hidden under the vines. 

"Professor!" he called out to Dumbledore, but it was too late. Shaw burst free of his bonds with a wild laugh, twisted his body and launched himself at Dumbledore across the floor. He grabbed the Professor by the ankles and red light glowed from them both before Dumbledore's eyes rolled up and he collapsed in a heap. Another blast of light from Shaw's hand at Merrythought and suddenly the room was silent but for Erik's rasping breaths. 

Charles stood in front of Erik as Shaw got to his feet. "You can't have him!" 

"Charles Xavier, isn't it?" Shaw's calm voice was even more chilling after the violence he had just committed. "That's fine. I'll have both of you. And the metamorphmagus, plus that boy who claims to be a killer. What a wealth of power there is here!"

Charles could feel Erik shaking so hard that it was making Charles shake too. "How are you going to explain what you did to the Professors?"

"Hmph. Since Erik helpfully destroyed the evidence Dumbledore was after, with you and Emma at my side I'm sure we can concoct something easy for the Headmaster to believe. He'll get rid of his most troublesome staff members and find a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher in one fell swoop."

"You can't do this!" Moira shouted from the other side of the room. She was standing protectively in front of Raven. 

"What about Professor Black?" Raven called. She had grown two feet in height, which Charles knew she only did when she was either showing off or truly terrified.

"I'm sure we can come to some agreement. It was just Emma being silly, wasn't it, my dear?"

Emma reluctantly stood up from behind the desk as if Shaw was pulling the strings of a marionette. 

She smoothed out her skirt, thoroughly downcast. "Yes, I'm terribly sorry, Mr Shaw. I'll apologise to Professor Black, as soon I as I possibly can."

Striding across to the other students, Shaw shoved Moira out of the way and grabbed Raven by the arm, hauling her over to where Charles and Erik stood. 

"Leave her alone!" Charles shouted, as Sean and Moira tried to pull Shaw's arm away to no effect. 

Raven, however, was not a girl to be dragged around. She promptly bit Shaw on the thumb, morphing down to her regular size in an attempt to make him let go. 

Shaw was bleeding. "You little animal!" He pulled back his other hand and slapped Raven across the face so hard she went limp in his grasp. 

" _Claudisi!_ " Charles yelled, the stumbling jinx, the first spell that came to mind. Armando, Moira and Sean cast spells as well, lines of light flashing into Shaw's body, but Shaw didn't so much as flinch. If anything, he looked pleased. 

"Enough of this. You children will do as you're told." He shook Raven by her arm. "Especially you."

Charles heard thundering footsteps and had a moment to think how familiar they sounded before Cain hurtled into the room and crashed right into Shaw. Cain was not as tall as Shaw but considerably wider, and with momentum on his side his tackle was spectacularly successful. Shaw, still clutching Raven, skidded across the room to hit the wall beside Charles and Erik. 

"Drop her!" Cain bellowed, advancing on Shaw, though his attack had thrown Raven just as far. 

" _Impedimenta!_ " Emma shouted and Cain stumbled and fell to his knees. 

"Thank you, Emma," Shaw said, though he sounded slightly winded. 

Erik suddenly pulled his hand from Charles'. "Here," he whispered, "Take this." 

Charles opened his hand to see what Erik had given him: it was an enormous diamond, and while it had left red burn marks on Erik's fingers, it felt pleasantly warm in Charles' grasp. "What does it do?" he asked, as it began to glow brightly. 

"That's mine!" Emma shrieked, and Charles held it up towards Shaw. He wasn't sure what Erik wanted him to do – it's not like magic worked on Shaw – but he trusted his friend. 

"Enough!" Shaw bellowed, pulling himself up to a seated position and letting go of Raven to reach for the diamond. It was glowing so brightly that the rest of the room was cast into shadow: Charles couldn't see anything other than the diamond and its reflection in Shaw's eyes. He could feel power building between him and the gem, but he had absolutely no idea how to focus it to attack Shaw without hurting Raven or Cain. 

"Erik, help me!" Charles gasped out, but Erik was already moving, his wand out, though he must know that it was useless against Shaw. 

Shaw's focus was still on the diamond, reaching out to take it from Charles, when suddenly Erik leapt between them, a dark shadow, with his wand held high. He plunged it deep into Shaw's eye socket, driving him to the floor. Erik pulled his wand back and stabbed him through the eye again with a terrible wet, tearing sound, and Charles dropped the glowing diamond in shock. The room was suddenly cast into gloom. 

Shaw was lying on the ground, gasping and bleeding, while Erik knelt over him stabbing into his skull again and again.

"You want to take my wand! Here you are! Take it!" Erik shouted. "You killed my mother! You can't have my friends!" 

Charles grabbed Erik by the shoulders. "Stop it! Erik! Stop it!" He knew that it was too late: Shaw was dead and Erik was laughing, a sound Charles had never heard. Charles took Erik's arm instead, covered in blood and what must be brain matter, and pulled as hard as he could, desperate to stop both Erik's attack and his terrible laughter. 

Other people clustered around them – Moira, Cain, then some adults – but all Charles could hear was Erik laughing. Someone pulled Charles away from Erik, and as hard as Charles tried to hold on, he couldn't.

"Erik! Erik!" he shouted and finally the laughing stopped. 

"You're safe now!" Erik called out to him, even as the groundskeeper pulled him away from Shaw's body, blood dripping from Erik's hands. "We're all safe now!" 

Charles had never felt less safe in his life.


	8. Epilogue

The infirmary had been crowded at first, but Charles had seen no sign of Erik. Most of their bumps and bruises were healed quickly, but Healer Yaxley wasn't willing to use healing magic on Raven's broken nose and wrist in case it impeded her ability to metamorph in the future. So Charles sat Raven's bedside while she was covered in a gooey black salve and made to sip a potion that she claimed tasted like rotten bananas and slug juice. Alex, too, was stuck in the infirmary, with exhaustion so intense that he couldn't get out of bed for more than a few minutes. 

"Over-taxed himself," was Yaxley's diagnosis, and Alex got an even nastier-smelling potion but was otherwise left to sleep it off, Armando and Hank taking turns to stay with him. 

"I can't believe Cain saved me," Raven told Charles, her golden eyes wide above the dark smears of salve. 

"Must be that Hufflepuffs really do stick together." Charles was equally surprised, but he guessed that, as unpleasant as it had been to be Kurt Marko's stepchildren, it hadn't been much fun being his son, either. Maybe Cain had simply needed better people around him, people who neither beat him nor were beaten by him. Cain had looked embarrassed when Charles thanked him, and even more so when he was awarded twenty points to Hufflepuff for bravery. 

It was a good thing that someone had won some points, as the rest of them had lost five house points each for being out of bounds during curfew. Moira had tried to argue with Headmaster Dippet that they had been helping their friend and they had found Gabrielle, but only the quiet intervention of Professor Black had prevented them from losing even more points. Sadly, he hadn't given Charles any information about Erik, or any house points. 

Professor Dumbledore and Professor Merrythought had been kept in a separate area of the infirmary to recover, but it was not hard to overhear their arguments, which had started at a whisper and rapidly increased in volume.

"…and you brought Erik into this and encouraged him! Let alone all his friends!" Merrythought sounded furious.

"He may be a child but he is entitled to protect himself."

"He wouldn't have to if you hadn't tried to use him as bait!" 

It didn't take long before Healer Yaxley kicked them out, though not before Merrythought had resigned as DADA teacher. 

"I can't teach children to defend themselves when one of their own teachers is trying to use them as some kind of personal army!" 

"That's not what I'm doing at all, Penelope," Dumbledore argued, but Charles had to agree with Professor Merrythought: if Dumbledore hadn't got Erik involved, Shaw might never have known he was here at all. It was the teachers' job to protect other students, not Erik's, Charles thought angrily. 

"Shh." Raven put her good hand on Charles's arm. "I know you're mad, but if you blow up at the Professor, you might get kicked out too. And then I won't know where you or Erik are."

That stopped Charles short, but a full day passed with visits from Moira and the others, but no sign of Erik. 

On the second day, with Raven looking much better and Alex able to walk around on his own, the Headmaster came to visit them. 

"Children, I am sorry to say that your friend Erik Lehnsherr has been expelled. The Aurors have agreed that he was acting in what he thought was your best interests and, taking his age and Professor Dumbledore's testimony into account, have agreed not to send him to Azkaban."

"What will happen to him?" Charles asked, horrified. 

"The plan was to break his wand, but unfortunately-" Dippet drew the word out, "- Professor Shomron decided of his own accord to send him to his foster parents before this could be done." Dippet seemed most disappointed at this uncharacteristic betrayal. 

"Good!" Raven declared, and Headmaster Dippet gave her a hard look, but in a hospital bed, covered in goo, she managed to look too pathetic for further reprimand. 

"And the other students Mr Shaw brought with him?" Charles asked. 

"Miss Frost has family in Boston, but she has requested to remain here to finish her education. We shall see if her father gives his permission. The two boys were uninvolved in Mr Shaw's tragic demise and will also be remaining."

"I think it would be wonderful for Emma to stay," Raven said, batting her suddenly longer eyelashes. Raven had told Charles about Emma's terror at the thought of being returned to Boston, but still, Charles hadn't expected Raven to stick up for the girl. 

"Well, perhaps she will." Dippet seemed quite positively inclined towards the idea, which was both a relief and a worry – Charles wasn't sure what he was supposed to say about Emma in his classes when she'd tried to help Shaw. 

"We'll find Erik again, I'm sure," Raven said. "We can visit him in the holidays – it's not like we'll want to go all the way home."

"If Dumbledore had protected him – " Charles choked on angry tears. "If Dumbledore had protected him, he never would have had to kill Shaw. You didn't see it, Raven – he used me to distract Shaw and then, then he just… And he was happy!"

Raven's face was solemn underneath the salve, and Charles remembered how serious she had been in the first weeks after he found her in the kitchen, starving and afraid. "Charles, he wasn't happy about murder. He was happy to survive. It's not the same and I hope he knows that."

Charles hugged her, careful not to jostle her broken wrist or get the nasty salve on himself. "Raven, you're the best sister. We'll find him. Or he'll find us."

\--- 

Professor Shomron had given Erik a handful of Floo Powder, but he didn't waste it going back to his foster fathers in Ireland. There was no way he would expose them to danger: they were kind old men, frail and trusting and known homosexuals, and Erik didn't like their chances if the Wizarding World turned against them for the crime of harbouring a murderer under their roof. Instead, he'd travelled to the only other Floo point he knew, the fireplace at Kings Cross Station. 

He walked along the busy streets, pleasantly anonymous in the random movements of the crowds. His wand was tucked into the sleeve of his wool coat, the wind tugged at his hair, and he breathed in the smoky air with pleasure, knowing he was free of Shaw and Dumbledore both, and that Charles and Raven and the others were in no danger. Erik was truly astonished to be able to leave someone because they were safe rather than dead, and it was strange but wonderful to think that he could see them all again some day. He used one of the precious few coins he'd pulled from the sewer grates – an old trick and still easy – to buy a postcard with a picture of Nelson's Column on it. 

"All well. E." he wrote on the back, then realised he had no idea where to post it. Well, he'd run into a postal owl soon enough, he expected. He shoved the postcard in his pocket for later. 

Erik might be alone but he was alive and free with the whole world rolled out before him. Shomron had mentioned Palestine, but Erik was happy to have no plan right now. He turned himself due south, away from Hogwarts, and walked on into the crowd.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for The Art of Magic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786558) by [sunryder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunryder/pseuds/sunryder)




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